


A bleak happiness

by LossOfWords



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU where Keith is never expelled and aliens aren't an issue, Abusive Father, Allura has a crush on Shiro, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Arizona - Freeform, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bleak, Blow Jobs, Boarding School, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depressed Mother, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drinking, Drunk Lance (Voltron), Eventual Smut, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Galaxy Garrison, Hangover, Happy moments - Freeform, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith and Lance hate each other at first, Keith just has the gay generally, Kerberos Mission, Knives, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance is v insecure, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Missing Family Members :(, Mutual Pining, Once again Lance is stupid and doesn't realize that Pidge is a girl, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Panic, Party, Pidge has the gay 4 allura, Post-Kerberos Mission, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spin the Bottle, Strict School, Teenagers, The whole pidge lie is going on for longer than i initially intended, Top Lance (Voltron), Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Vodka, What's new, city, have safe sex plz, ice pops, keith smokes omg is he cool yet, klance, pidge has a crush on allura, sad teenagers, sorry folks, sunset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LossOfWords/pseuds/LossOfWords
Summary: If you rounded up just about every child with a bad enough home life to want to run away but realistically can't afford it, you'd find them all in the Galaxy Garrison. Home of the sad teenagers, stupid enough to think that their pain will go away just because they sleep in a different bed at night. Nobody wanted it to admit it, but everyone was broken in one way or another.And so there's Lance. Just as sad as everyone else, just as eager to be normal as everyone else, and just as incapable as everyone else. Even with the most cunning of personalities, one can't simply be happy at the Galaxy Garrison.:)





	1. The Galaxy Garrison

**Author's Note:**

> I've put way too much thought into how this story is gonna go, so I really hope somebody out there likes it.
> 
> Happy trails! 
> 
>  
> 
> Also TW for self harm, stay safe while reading ^-^

 

Lance took his pills with vodka that he smuggled onto campus. Not because he liked vodka, the shit tasted awful, but because of the distracting buzz he’d get afterwards. At first Hunk questioned him. But with anything else his roommate found unreasonable, he dropped it after a couple of days and purposely ignored it. 

 

A few classmates realized that he had some form of alcohol, and naturally begged for some. Lance declined. He only had so much, but he had an infinite number of pills it seemed.

 

What were the pills? Anti-depressants, if you must know. Anyone that went to the shithole otherwise known as the Garrison ought to have a few hidden somewhere in a drawer. Everyone there was depressed, constantly stressing over their grades and friendships. There were a few physically violent teachers also, Iverson being one of them. Lance had his fair share of being yanked by the wrist or slapped across the face. 

 

And yet, these sad and stupid teenagers still somehow determined this place to be better than home. A few would drop out after the first few weeks. Those were the ones with the good parents, maybe a dad that didn’t hit their depressed mother, or a sibling that committed suicide.

 

Or maybe a sober mother with a present husband and son, or happily married mother that could afford her son’s education, and didn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck.

 

Lance blinked. The bitter taste of vodka sliding down his throat was familiar. Distantly, he noted that he’d have to get a new bottle soon. On the other side of the room, Hunk was fiddling with some device he’d have to turn in for engineering class.

 

“Hey uh Lance, when you’re done downing that stuff could you pass me that silver thing on the bed?” Hunk asked, not looking up from whatever he was doing. 

 

“Sure thing buddy,” Lance said, with a slight delay to his words, the combination of low tolerance and alcohol weighing down his tongue. Maybe the fact that he couldn’t hold down his liquor for shit was why he never went to the frequent parties, that were far beyond the point of officials trying to stop them. They just yelled at a drunk student every now and then. 

 

Lance picked up whatever silver thing Hunk was going on about and tossed it across the room. It landed onto the other boy’s desk, where a lamp dimly lit papers strewn about everywhere and multiple tool boxes, along with a couple of open textbooks. 

 

Above the desk were pictures of things Hunk cared about, like his mom, and his dog. Looking at them made Lance happy for whatever reason, maybe because Hunk was one of the lucky few that actually had a fairly good home life. Sure, his mom was poor and single, but she loved him and would never mistreat him. A nice life he must have, what would Lance give to taste just a bit of it? 

 

He didn’t envy his best friend. Or at least, he tried not to. He tried not to wish to trade with him, because that would mean giving him his shitty experiences, and he cared about Hunk too much to do something like that.

 

So, instead of dwelling on Hunk’s happiness, he laid down on the bottom bunk, which wasn’t actually his, but much closer than the second.

 

The “official” time that everyone was meant to be lights out was 9 p.m. It was bordering 11:30, and probably only a quarter of the campus was actually sleeping. This was the prime time to cram in studying, or finish a last minute project. 

 

Or, the spare few that were brave enough would sneak into other student’s rooms to have their fair share of intimacy. Every now and then Lance knocked down some chick’s door, and once a guy who chickened out halfway through, repeating that he wasn’t gay like some sort of mantra.

 

Not that Lance minded too much. He liked girls more anyway

 

“Dude, Mrs. Powell is gonna kill me if turn in this junk,” Hunk fretted from across the room. Lance shrugged, examining the top of the bed, or the underside of the top bunk.

 

“Hunk I literally give 0% effort towards whatever I have to do, and I’m doing fine,” Lance said.

 

“Yea, but like I actually wanna do good. I mean, no shade man, but you’re practically at the bottom of the class in terms of grades.”Lance raised his hand to flip Hunk off from across the room, nearly certain he wouldn’t see it anyway. 

 

This was boring. Lance didn’t have any work to catch up on, or girls to screw. Pidge, a mutual friend of theirs and probably the smartest person there, said he’d try and come over to help Hunk out like 30 minutes ago, so it was best to assume that he got caught sneaking out. That, or he was just fashionably late. Probably the former. 

 

It was a Friday night, so technically he _could_ go to bed and look forward to the weekend ahead of him. Or he could do something more exciting like… finding Pidge.

 

“Oi Hunko, Imma go look for the gremlin,” he said, springing up from the bed.

 

“Yea sure, just don’t get caught. Ask him why the fuck he’s taking so long if you find him,” Hunk responded.

 

“Will do man,” Lance replied, and slowly cracked open the door. Glancing both ways, he stepped out, and quietly shut the door.

 

The hallways seemed quiet, spare for a couple of students tiptoeing about. Lance made his way towards the freshman dorms, keeping close to the wall. A couple of times he ducked to avoid being seen through any windows.

 

Freshman usually weren’t sneaking around as much, so it was fairly empty around their dorms. Examining the numbers on the doors, he eventually came across Pidge’s room. He could hardly see quite honestly, but it was fairly easy to tell which room was his, since the guy had stickers of NASA and space plastered on his door.

 

Knocking softly, Lance turned the doorknob. It was locked, obviously, but it was worth trying anyways. Again he knocked, a bit harder, glancing around for any supervisors. 

 

Maybe he fell asleep. Well, no that’s impossible, Pidge practically never slept. Maybe he was on the roof again. Yeah, that seemed logical enough.

 

So Lance made his way through the corridors once again, quietly crouching underneath windows. There was only one entrance to the rooftop, and it just so happened to be fairly close to the freshman dormitories. Even still, Lance walked slowly, not particularly keen on getting caught. 

 

When he reached the staircase, he quietly opened the door, and made sure that it didn’t slam behind him. A tragic occurrence that happened to him once before. Once he was in the stairwell, he climbed up slowly, making sure he didn’t hear any noises indicating sex. Walking in on someone fucking on the roof was uh… fairly likely. 

 

However he didn’t hear anything of the sort, so he increased his pace. When he reached the top there was a door, which was opened halfway already. Beyond it was Pidge, sitting towards the edge with all sorts of strange gear.

 

Lance didn’t say anything right away, and instead watched as Pidge hummed a song quietly under his breath. He didn’t want to scare the boy, considering he was right at the edge of the roof. 

 

Quietly, Lance cleared his throat, but Pidge didn’t seem to hear. Lance sighed.

 

“Heyo Pidge..?” he tried. The boy physically jumped, his headphones falling off, and Lance mentally prepared to run forward and catch him if he started to fall forwards.

 

But he didn’t. Instead he put a hand on his heart and silently cursed.

 

“Lance what the fuck?!” he said eventually, tossing off his headphones.

 

“Sorry! I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Lance said, putting his hands up to display his innocence. 

 

“Yea well cheers man, you did pretty great with that,” he said drily, putting his headphones back on. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, now displaying mild annoyance.

 

“What do you want, anyway?” he asked, beginning to type something on his computer. 

 

“Dude, did you forget? You promised to help Hunk with his engineering project.” 

 

“Oh, _shit_ I did forget,” Pidge cursed. He began to frantically disassemble what looked like a mini satellite. 

 

“Hey, what’s that for?” Lance inquired, stepping closer. 

 

“Listening,” he said shortly, continuing to pack everything up.

 

“Listening for what? You come here to rock out?” 

 

Pidge gave him a dry stare.

 

“No jackass I’m just… Looking at the stars.” Lance tilted his head. Pidge was weird.

 

Reaching out, Lance picked up a piece of the satellite that Pidge detached from the rest. Moments later, his hand was swatted.

 

“Don’t touch that!” Lance put the piece down and rubbed his hand.

  
“Hey–where’d you get this stuff?” Lance asked, gesturing to the machinery. “It doesn’t look like Garrison tech.” 

 

“I built it,” Pidge said proudly, before frowning. “What does that matter though? I need to go and help Hunk. God, I’m already like an hour late. Do something useful and help me pack.” 

 

Lance did as he was told, picking up a couple of things and putting them into Pidge’s bag. Once everything was in, Pidge grabbed his hand and began to race towards the door.

 

“Woah woah, not so fast man, we’re totally gonna get caught if you go at that speed,” Lance said. 

 

“Ugh I–whatever fine, you lead the way.” 

 

Lance quietly made his way down the stairwell, opening the door and letting Pidge out. He shut it quietly behind him, and gestured for Pidge to follow him.

 

Though Pidge was utter shit at stealth, he managed to make it to the room without disturbing any officials. 

 

When they got in, Hunk spun around in the chair.

 

“Pidge, what the actual and unadulterated fuck,” he said, holding his hands out in a _“what the hell?”_ sort of gesture. 

 

“Geez, I’m sorry, I totally forgot that I said I’d come over here,” Pidge apologized, setting down his bag.

 

“He was busy looking at the stars,” Lance chipped in, climbing up to the top bunk and lying down idly. 

 

Staring at the ceiling, Lance hummed lightly. On the ground below, Hunk and Pidge discussed some nerdy junk. 

 

Once again, he was bored. He genuinely had no idea what his friends were talking about, and his phone had died hours ago. He still didn’t feel like charging it. The cord was lost somewhere. 

 

There wasn’t really going to be much to do until the morning. Lance groaned. Doing nothing resulted in feeling like shit, and overthinking everything. 

 

Turning over, he frowned. There was that blade that he had hidden in his drawer, in-between some book. That wouldn’t work though, with Pidge and Hunk being awake.

 

He wondered if Hunk every noticed his habit of constantly wearing long sleeves. Probably, the guy was very perceptive when he wanted to be. 

 

The habit had begun when he was at the wee age of 11. He didn’t like to think too heavily about it, or how it came to be. All he knew was that he hadn’t stopped, not 6 years later. 

 

“Hey Lance, are you hungry?” Pidge asked him from the bottom bunk, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“I mean, yea?” He wasn’t. He just wanted to be doing something. 

 

Pidge pulled what looked like crackers out of his bag and tossed them up. Lance caught them. They looked a bit like Ritz crackers, but off brand. Biting into one, he discovered that it wasn’t that bad, and happily began to munch on them.

 

“Dude, don’t forget to give those back,” Pidge warned from below.

 

“Yea yea,” Lance said. As he chewed, an idea sparked in his head. Turning onto his stomach, he looked over the railing of his bunk. 

 

“Oi, what are you two doing tomorrow?” Lance asked.

 

“Uhh… My project?” Hunk said uncertainly. 

 

“Helping Hunk with his project?” Pidge added. 

 

Lance frowned with dissatisfaction.

 

“Oook, what are you two doing tomorrow night?” he tried instead.

 

“I dunno? What do you want to do tomorrow?” Hunk asked.

 

“We should go hit the town, loosen up, meet some nice girls,” Lance said, making gestures with his hands to match his words. 

 

Lance saw Hunk shrug. 

 

“If I’m finished with my project by then I wouldn’t mind,” Hunk said, tossing a scrap of metal aside.

 

“I’m down for whatever,” Pidge said with a small shrug. Lance tossed him the crackers and laid on his back.

 

“Then it’s settled! Tomorrow we’ll scout the town, maybe buy some food if anyone has money,” he said, raising his hand into a thumbs up position even though nobody was looking. 

 

Laying his arm down, Lance continued to stare at the ceiling. 

 

“So like, are you two almost done with that or what?”

 

“Not really,” Pidge replied. “There’s one section left that we have to make entirely by scratch, and then it’ll be finished.” Lance hummed in reply. 

 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was nearly ten past one. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

 

“Hey guys, I’m going to sleep so like shut up,” he said.

 

“Aren’t you gonna change clothes first?” Hunk asked.\

 

“Nah, don’t feel like it,” Lance replied. He was still wearing his uniform. 

 

“Suit yourself man. Goodnight.” 

 

“Night.” 

 

Lance didn’t really fall asleep. He only pretended to because it beat staring at the ceiling. He heard Pidge leave however many hours later, and Hunk prepare to go to bed.

 

After a while he heard Hunk’s snores, so he quietly climbed down the bed’s ladder and onto the ground. Quietly he reached into bag to grab a silver blade, and quietly crept away into the closet. Hunk’s snores diminished but he didn’t awaken, or at least he pretended not to.

 

The closet was fairly familiar. He found himself in it nearly every night, hacking away at his own skin like some sort of sociopath. 

 

Sighing, he began his routine. In the quiet, on his own, like it’s always been.

 

When he was done he pressed a red cloth to his abused arm and waited. For maybe ten minutes, or half an hour, he wasn’t sure. However long it was, it ensured that blood wasn’t dripping down his arm and onto the easily impressionable carpet. Stupid carpet. Ought to realize that it hasn’t got to copy the color of the blood dripping onto it.

 

Eventually he crept out of the closet, to meet Hunk’s open gaze.

 

“You could’ve talked to me, you know,” his friend said sadly. Lance stiffened. 

 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said simply. With a newfound sense of anxiety, Lance put the blade back into his bag. Hunk's eyes followed his movements.

 

“Throw this away and I’ll throw your engineering project off of the edge of the roof,” Lance said without looking at him.

 

He could only imagine Hunk’s sad expression. The stupid, empathetic guy. He was too good to be Lance’s friend.

 

“Goodnight Lance,” was all he said before turning over in the bed. Lance climbed up onto his bunk, making a strong effort to hold in his tears. A few strays managed to escape.

 

He laid there for quite some time. Feeling empty. And then at some point without warning, the darkness of sleep consumed him, promising another bleak day.


	2. Townies

 

 

When Lance woke up the next morning, he laid in bed, unwilling to talk to his friend. He could hear Hunk fiddling with his project below, and internal dread pooled in his stomach. In the past with these sorts of things, Hunk just ignored them and pretended that they didn’t happen. But this was more important, he wasn’t sure if his friend would just push it aside.

 

Eventually he sat up, pulling his sleeves up to his palms and holding onto the ends. He wasn’t sure how to act. Being witty and charming was easy enough when nothing was seemingly wrong with you.

 

Climbing down the ladder, Lance instead panicked and chose to ignore Hunk, who didn’t say anything either.

 

Once down, Lance opened his closet door, and grabbed his typical “weekend” clothes. It wasn’t anything special or cool, just a weird green sweatshirt, a blue t-shirt, and jeans.

 

Grabbing a pair of underwear and shoes, Lance headed off to the communal showers without saying anything. In the back of his mind he hoped that Hunk didn’t think he was mad at him.

 

The halls were packed. Kids were either going to the eating lounges or showers, and some were heading to town (without permission of course, you’re not supposed to go without an adult). 

 

If Lance could choose one thing he disliked about this place nearly as much as the teachers, he’d probably have to say the showers. It was god awful, being expected to strip down in front of a bunch of twinks and shower practically right next to them.

 

Not to say that Lance couldn’t be, incredibly gay at times. But, it was so unnecessarily awkward having to keep his left arm out of view, and stand so close to someone that reeked of sex and hormones.

 

Sighing, Lance approached the showers, and pushed open the door slowly.

Inside was exactly what he expected. Partially or fully nude teenage boys, somehow managing to maintain a conversation while their bodies were completely vulnerable. Lance grimaced. A bit of steam flowed past him and escaped through the door.

 

The air inside was moist, reminding him of indoor pools. A gross feeling, he thought distantly as he shuffled past boys.

 

His least favorite part of the entire ordeal was probably undressing. Because unless you’re some sort of pornstar or sex veteran, then you probably look awful stripping. 

 

Or at least Lance did, considering that he was practically tripping over his pants legs.

 

Standing as close to the showers as possible, Lance fully disrobed himself, not too keen on the idea of walking across the entirety of the room nude.

 

As quickly as he could, with his arm pressed to his side, Lance moved into the shower.

 

The setup was a bit weird, with each shower stall being right next to each other and no form of a divider between the two. It made for an extremely obvious attempt to not look at the person next to you, or the unfortunate instance of your soap bar sliding over to their stall somehow.

 

Sometimes friends would stand next to each other, chatting it up whilst showering, or the sane few would awkwardly cower and try to finish up as soon as possible.

 

Halfheartedly, Lance washed up, shutting off the water and wrapping himself in a towel. He hadn’t even gotten his hair wet. Usually he tried to go in the showers at times when they’d be mostly empty so that he can wash his hair.

 

Dressing in the mornings was probably Lance’s second least favorite part about the showers. During the week everyone was rushing to make it to their classes and bumping into him. On the weekends everyone just lounged around and blocked the way. At least in the evenings people dressed at a decent pace and didn’t nearly knock half-clothed Lance over.

 

Pulling on his sweatshirt, Lance quickly shuffled out of the showers, still grimacing slightly.

 

He quickly dropped his clothes off at the campus laundry mat and idly walked through the halls. Lance knew he’d have to return to talk to Hunk eventually, his friend being concerned for him, but the idea was slightly daunting.

 

He would be stupid to try and pretend that he didn’t think Hunk knew for quite a while. The guy literally noticed everything. But it was always the sort of thing where he could fool himself into believing otherwise, giving him some odd sense of safety. 

 

Frowning, he arrived at his dorm, hesitant to open the door. Lance took in a deep breath. He’d just do what he always did, play it off like it was no big deal and convince Hunk he wouldn’t do it again. Geez, he was an awful friend.

 

Without giving himself a chance to change his mind, Lance pushed open the door to be greeted with the sight of Pidge sitting on the floor.

 

“Oh hey dude, there you are,” he said, fiddling with some computer chip. 

 

“Hey Pidge,” he said, waving. He had forgotten that Pidge was coming over again.

 

“Morning Lance,” Hunk said from across the room, his attention focused on his project. 

 

Lance stiffened slightly, before forcing himself to relax.

 

“Sup Hunko,” he said with an exaggerated finger gun that his friend wasn’t even facing the right direction to see.

 

Sighing, he walked around Pidge to the bottom bunk and laid down.

 

“Hey Lance, we might be finished sooner than I thought,” Pidge said, not looking up from the device. “I was thinking maybe we could hit the town a little sooner than this evening? It’ll be hot out or whatever so we can grab those ice pops that you like.” 

 

“Sure, I’d be down,” he replied with a small shrug, resting his feet on the roof of the bunk and examining his hand-me-down converse. He was half convinced that they were girls shoes.

 

Sounds of tinkering filled the room, slightly irritating Lance. Lowering his feet from the top of the bunk, Lance kicked off his shoes. After what could’ve been either thirty minutes or a full hour, the silence was interrupted.

 

“Hunk I’m done with all of the coding, you almost finished?” Pidge asked, setting down whatever he was working on. 

 

“Yea, I just need to finish that bit I told you about earlier,” he replied.

 

“Dude you've been screwing with that thing non-stop, lets go and like, do something,” Pidge complained. 

 

Lance rolled onto his side to look over at the two. Pidge was standing, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

“This is worth like half my grade, I need to finish it,” Hunk argued. 

 

“Hunk, my man, 4”2 is right,” Lance said, shielding his face when Pidge threw a shoe at him. “I am _5”3_ so you can go fuck yourself!” 

 

“But like, it smells like a stressed out student in here and it’s pissing me off, lets go _do_ something,” he continued. 

 

Hunk sighed, standing from his chair.

 

“If I get a low grade on this I’m caving both of you guys’ skulls in,” he said, grabbing his shoes from the corner of the dorm.

 

“Sweet!” Lance said springing from the bed. Pausing, he frowned. 

 

Crouching in front of his dresser, Lance dug through the third drawer until he found his trusty bottle of vodka and pills.

 

“Hey Lance lemme have a sip,” Pidge said in what Lance assumed was a joking tone.

 

“What, do you actually want some?” He murmured, popping two pills into his mouth and taking a generous swig. 

 

Pidge looked down at him seriously.

 

“Why, would you let me have any?” Lance covered his mouth to keep himself from spitting out the beverage from laughter, and swallowed the pills quickly.

 

“Dude you’re like 14, why would I let you drink this?” he said.

 

“I’m 15, jackass, and it’s not like I haven’t had alcohol before,” he snapped, scowling.

 

“Taking a sip of your mommy’s wine or a sample from Kroger doesn’t count,” Lance teased.

 

“Piss off,” was all that Pidge said in return, adjusting his glasses menacingly. 

 

“Ok guys, no fighting, lets just focus our energy into not getting caught,” Hunk said, double knotting his shoe and standing up.

 

“Yea Pidge, no fighting,” Lance said, tucking the bottle and pills carefully back into his drawer and covering it with multiple other items.

 

Hunk still hadn’t said anything, though Lance figured he wouldn’t around Pidge. That was good, at least, Pidge would probably either call him a pansy or get uncomfortable and leave.

 

“Fine, lets just motor,” Pidge said, opening the door. As Lance went to walk out, Pidge aggressively slammed the door on his foot, smiling innocently when he got pissed off.

 

Behind them Hunk sighed, walking out to the hall and waiting while Lance locked the door.

 

“Kay so, where are we exiting from?” Lance asked, turning the knob to clarify that it was locked. 

 

“I was gonna say maybe the east entrance? It’s furthest from town so not many people will be looking out for students,” Pidge suggested.

 

“Sounds solid,” Lance said with a shrug. “If they ask where we’re going, we’re all practicing team bonding in building 2B.” 

 

Doing their best to remain casual, the Garrison trio began walking down the halls, watching as students were led away from the west entrance by officials with pouts on their faces.

 

Eventually they reached the exit, Pidge carefully looking both ways before giving the other two boys thumbs ups.

 

Outside it was… hot, considering that it was Arizona and all. A few wispy clouds littered the sky, but nothing too drastic.

 

“Ok so uhh, if the town from the main entrance is 15 minutes away it's going to be like 20 from here, right? God, it’s so hot out here, did anyone bring water? I don’t want Pidge passing out again,” Hunk fretted, walking along the trail with frequent glances about.

“Again? When did I pass out the first time,” Pidge said from in front of them, frowning. 

 

“During that one training session,” Lance chimed in.

 

“That doesn’t count, I was _training_ ,” he snapped.

 

“Didn't stop ol’ Allura from having to toss water on you,” Lance teased. Pidge turned around to face him, walking backwards with a blush spreading across his face.

 

“You’re just jealous because Allura panicked and gave me mouth to mouth!” he yelled, turning back around.

 

“Whatever, we all know you’ve got a lil crush on her,” Lance pressed, grinning wickedly. Pidge didn’t reply, but instead flipped him off.

 

Hunk sighed, wiping sweat off his face.

 

“Dude, quit teasing him,” he chastised.

 

“Why? Doesn’t really matter anyway, we all know Allura’s got the hots for the famous ‘Kashi Shirogane,” Lance mused, rolling the r.

 

“You mean the one that’s been missing for over a year?” Hunk questioned.

 

“Well–yea, but if he came back that’s definitely who she’d go for,” Lance said, still grinning.

 

Pidge turned around again, this time completely still, allowing Lance to stop inches away from him.

 

“Don’t fucking take the piss out of me just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants around her,” he snapped. “Besides, there’s no way she’d be able to hook up with Shiro even if he did turn up, since he’d be busy boning Matt anyway!” 

 

“Matt?” Lance said, tilting his head. Pidge blinked. 

 

“Matt, he–he’s the commanders kid! Don’t you know anything?”

 

Hunk stepped between them, pushing Lance away with his brows furrowed.

 

“Lance, piss off, Pidge stop yelling, someone’s going to hear you,” he said, frowning deeply. “We’re here to go to the town and loosen up, so quit insulting each other.”

 

Pidge scowled, walking away. Lance shrugged Hunk off.

 

These sorts of arguments happened every so often between the two of them. In fifteen minutes they’d shake it off and feel fine again. 

 

 

—

 

They reached the town without any further complications. Both Lance and Pidge managed to calm down, re-bonding during a squabble with Hunk involving what ice pop flavor was superior.

 

Lance always said that once he got out of the Garrison he’d save up a couple of bucks so that they could all live in the town together. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was somewhere that he felt he could call home if he wanted to.

 

The transition from empty desert to shop-filled plaza was drastic. The streets suddenly had streetlights decorating the sides of them, with the most insignificant places to buy merchandise. There was even one dairy exclusive store, with a large cow as it’s sign. 

 

A few Garrison students could be spotted here and there, with items in their hands, useless toys that they’d probably loose in a couple of days.

 

“Yo, Hunkie, how much money you stackin’?” Lance asked, trying to remember if he had brought a five or ten dollar bill.

 

“I think I still have a $20 in my wallet left over from my birthday cash?” he replied questioningly.

 

“Dude your birthday was like 9 months ago, why do you still have that?” Pidge inquired, an eyebrow hitched.

 

“I don’t buy stuff very much man, when’s the last time I’ve been shopping?”

 

“Like, March,” Lance said, turning towards the ice cream shop.

 

“Lance, do you think they sell bubble teas here yet?” Pidge asked hopefully, walking inside.

 

“You ask that every time, and every time I say, ‘no Pidge, they would sell that in a frozen yogurt shop,’” Lance sighed, stuffing his hands into his pocket.

 

Inside was, colorful to say the least. Even though the shop was targeted as an ice cream one, pictures of sorbets and popsicles were plastered onto the wall, being advertised in addition to ice cream.

 

Girls from the local public school came here often, as Lance noticed a couple of years ago. None of them were ever interested in him; at some point he gave up on flirting.

 

“Who’s up to order first?” Hunk asked. 

 

“I’ll go,” said Pidge with a slight pout, walking up to the uninterested clerk and spewing out his order.

 

Lance stood behind him, waiting patiently to order. When it came to be his turn, he requested a strawberry ice pop, with an unnecessary wink towards the man on the counter, who clearly didn’t appreciate it.

 

Without being given a response, he was handed an ice pop, and in return he gave the clerk a $10 (turns out he had more than he thought).

 

Pidge had already left to go outside. None of them enjoyed staying in the store, believing that the scenery outside was much more appealing.

 

Lance waited on Hunk to finish before heading outside as well.

 

“Where we off to?” Lance asked, tearing the plastic off of his pop and tossing it somewhere.

 

“The usually spot?” Pidge said with a tilt of his head.

 

“Sure, why not,” Hunk said. Lance began to walk off, glancing up at the sky. It was starting to gain hints of a peachy tone, with the oncoming sunset.

 

The ice pops weren’t really that sweet, admittedly, but that’s what Lance liked about them the most. They had character, they weren’t perfect like all the other ones he’d had in the past. They still managed to sell out, despite these imperfections.

 

Scuffing his shoe on the concrete, Lance approached a field, with Hunk and Pidge close behind him. Large chunks of unused but smooth cement sat in patches, shaped like cylinders laying on their sides.

 

“Wanna pick this time?” Hunk asked Pidge, who grinned excitedly.

 

Walking in front of them, Pidge examined the blocks, climbing up onto one and seating himself, his legs swinging.

 

Lance chuckled, walking towards it and having Pidge hold his pop. Climbing up, he took it back, Hunk settling down beside him.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, with them just sitting there and watching the sunset. Every now and then Lance would intentionally say something stupid, causing the other two to laugh. The sky faded from a vibrant pink to a dull purple, signifying the day’s end.

 

“Yo, I have to take a piss, I’ll be right back,” Pidge said, hopping down.

 

“You want an escort little guy?” Lance asked.

 

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he replied.

 

“Kay, don’t get kidnapped or I won’t have anyone to do my homework for me anymore,” Lance said, giving him a thumbs up. Pidge returned the gesture and walked off.

 

For a moment it was quiet and calm, until Lance realized that he was alone with Hunk for the first time that day. 

 

Hunk didn't say anything right away, but Lance could practically hear his mind working to think of the proper phrasing. An intake of breath sounded.

 

“For how long?” he said simply, fiddling with the ice pop’s stick.

 

“Since I was 11,” Lance replied, grinning to himself despite the grim topic.

 

Hunk’s fiddling increased in pace.

 

“Does it…hurt?” he asked. Lance paused.

 

“Not anymore,” he said with a blink, trying his best to retain a neutral tone. He could feel Hunk looking at him.

 

“Are you mad at me?” Lance smiled, but it wasn’t a good smile, it was the sort of smile to keep him from breaking down into tears.

 

“Of course not man,” he said instead.

 

“Can I see?”

 

Lance stiffened, and shook his head.

 

“You can talk to me about anything you know,” he murmured. 

 

“I know.”

 

“I wish I could understand why you do it,” Hunk said, a sad tone in his voice.

 

Lance openly laughed, which caused a shudder, and then a sob. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying his best not to make any noise.

 

Silently, Hunk wrapped his arms around him, allowing his friend to lean on his shoulder.

 

Several minutes later, Lance heard Pidge approach, and then slow down, quietly climbing back onto the cement block without saying anything.

 

The darkness grew darker, and all three of them knew that they’d get yelled at for staying out past curfew.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Lance complaining about the shower was more uncomfortable than I thought it'd be.


	3. The 80s Called

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so uhh, I feel like my portrayal of the teacher here is a bit stereotypical so lemme just reiterate these things:
> 
> The teachers at the Garrison in this fic are notoriously violent and possess a low tolerance.
> 
> Lance is less caring than he should be and has gotten on their nerves since he was a freshman. 
> 
> Most of the time the teachers try to make "examples" out of students, which never works, however they do anyways.
> 
> \--
> 
> I hope you enjoy hah <3

Monday rolled around with the same boring promise attached to it. Another week of aggressive teachers and failed simulations.

 

When Lance woke that morning he audibly groaned, smothering his face with a pillow. Hunk was still fast asleep below him.

 

Sighing, he dragged himself out of bed, nearly falling down the ladder. His movements were weighed down with grogginess.

 

Halfheartedly he shook Hunk, who still didn’t wake up. With a grumble, he took his friend by the arm and dragged him off the bed, which startled the boy enough to wake him up.

 

“Huh? What?” he said, looking around rapidly, his gaze stilling on Lance. “Dude what the fuck? That hurt!”

 

Lance shrugged, already pulling his pills out the drawer. Great, he needed more of those too. There was a pharmacy on campus, but that didn’t make it any less of a bother.

 

Hunk stood up, mumbling. 

 

“What time is it?” he asked Lance, who was taking a swig of vodka. 

 

“Dude I don’t know,” he replied slowly, alcohol already affecting is words. 

 

With a sigh, Hunk stepped into the closet to change clothes.

 

Lance went into his own, pulling on his cadet uniform with slow movements.

 

Yawning, he pushed open the closet door and stepped out to be greeted with the sight of a very panicked Hunk.

 

“What’s up dude?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“It’s six minutes past eight,” Hunk said, lowering his phone slowly. 

 

Lance’s sleep ridden mind struggled to process the dilemma here. What time did class start at?

 

With a blink, Lance’s eye’s gradually grew wider. Both Hunk and him had their first class at 8:00 a.m., with a teacher that was sure to yell at them once they got there.

 

“Oh _shit_ ,” he cursed. The two boys grabbed their bags, Hunk haphazardly stuffing his project inside, and all but raced out of their dorms.

 

Their luck was utterly fucked, since Mrs. Montgomery’s class was all the way across campus.

 

The two all but sprinted across the halls, forcing themselves to slow down in front of officials.

 

They reached class at a whopping 8:23, and genuinely debated on skipping out.

 

“Ok, if we’re going to actually go to class, you’re going in first,” Lance hissed.

 

“ _What_?” 

 

“Yea! You were still asleep when I woke up, so technically this isn’t as much of my fault as it is of yours.” 

 

Hunk frowned, and then pushed open the door.

 

Mrs. Montgomery stood across the room, directly in front of the two, with the signature bun in her hair and rectangular glasses.

 

“Oh, McClain, Garrett, how nice of you to join us,” she said with a vicious bite to her tone. 

 

Students had already turned their heads away in sympathy. The teacher began to stalk towards them, her heels clicking against the floor.

 

“And here I thought Iverson had scolded you two about your…” she paused in front of them. “Timing.” 

 

Without hesitation she slapped Hunk across the face, and Lance physically flinched at the sound.

 

“Make an example out of this,” she said somewhat loudly. “Show up to my class late again, and I’ll just _happen_ to mark your grade down by half.”

 

Lance frowned. Beside him Hunk rubbed his cheek, hissing under his breath.

 

“Take your seats, cadets,” she snapped, turning around and walking back towards the board.

 

Not daring to challenge her, Lance and Hunk took their respective seats. At the beginning of the year they had sat next to each other, but got separated after a few “incidents” of cheating off of each other.

 

“As I was saying before being unfortunately interrupted,” she started passive-aggressively, “We are having our first group project for this semester.” 

 

Someone in the room audibly groaned. Mrs. Montgomery ignored them.

 

“Since it has become clear that partnering you with the same people every time is inefficient, I thought I’d change things up a bit,” she said with a pointed look around the room.

 

Lance sighed. So much for working with Hunk. 

 

“Now I have constructed a list of students that have never been partnered together before since joining the Galaxy Garrison–and yes, it is possible to pair every single student with someone that they have not been with previously. With extensive care and a thriving desire to ensure that my pupils have the optimal learning experience.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Lance began to fiddle with a strand of his hair. Looking about the room, he saw the same disinterested expression being reciprocated. 

 

“The project that you will be working on is to make a power point presentation with an audio voiceover, being a minimum of 2 minutes and a maximum of 5. It can be about any of the pilots that have discussed, or the crew that was dispatched to the Kerberos moon and failed recently. I expect there to be over 10 detailed slides. Any plagiarism will result in an automatic 0.” 

 

“I will now list who each of you will be paired with,” she said, picking up a sheet of paper.

 

Lance tuned out as she listed the names. With most group projects that he didn’t do with Hunk, someone else just did all of the work and plastered his name onto it, so he didn’t really care too much who he got paired with. Unless it was another moron, then that’d be the pits.

 

“Hunk Garrett and Courtney Wilkinson,” she drawled. Glancing around, Lance tried to figure out who the hell Courtney was. After a few seconds he gave up, figuring he’d just have Hunk point her out later.

 

“Taylor Oaks and Bridgette Newman.” 

 

Mrs. Montgomery crossed out the names as she said them, carefully directing her pen down the paper. Lance’s eyes half-lidded.

 

“Keith…” the teacher squinted. “Ko-gain, and Lance McClain,” she said, crossing off another column.

 

Lance’s brows furrowed as his eyes opened fully. Great, some other kid that he had never met before. Looking around the room, he found it nearly impossible to pinpoint him. Nobody was looking at him, and nearly everyone was gazing around in confusion for their own respective classmates.

 

Sighing, he laid his face onto the desk, drumming his fingers. What was a power point presentation anyway? Was that the thing with the pie chart? 

 

“…and lastly Harriet Jones and Alyssa Harper. This project is due on the 12th of October. Any submissions after that and before the 17th will be marked down by half. After the 17th I will be giving out permanent zeros.”

At some point between her sentence the bell rang, however everyone in that class knew well enough by then not to leave until she officially dismissed them.

 

For another minute or so she rambled on about the consequences of turning in a project late, and/or cheating. 

 

“You are now dismissed,” she said, turning away from the class to sort together some papers.

 

Grabbing his bag Lance prepared to motor, however a tap on his arm interrupted him.

 

Turning around, seemed as though he was being greeted with a look straight out of the eighties, he mused with his eyes squinted.

 

“Hey, you’re Lance right?” the kid in front of him was painfully pale, with what looked like…purple eyes? He was frowning, his brows knitted. A few freckles littered his skin here and there, but nothing excessive. And his hair, what the fuck was going on with his hair…

 

“Dude is that a fucking mullet?” Lance said in favor of a proper introduction. The kid sputtered for a moment, clearly taken aback.

 

“What the hell? What kind of question is that?” he said eventually his expression now pulled into that of an irritable one.

 

“Oh, forgive my manners Mr. uhh…. John Stamos, yes I am the formidable Lance McClain,” he said mockingly, his lips drawn into a grin.

 

The boy scowled, the expression growing more irritating the longer that Lance looked at it.

 

“Fine, whatever. I’m your partner, Keith? You seem like a jockish prick that just lets everyone else do his work for him, so I’ll do the project on my own. I’ll just say you wrote the notes,” Keith sneered, folding his arms.

 

“Woah woah woah, ok jackass, I am _not_ a jock, and I am _perfectly_ capable of doing my own work,” Lance retorted indignantly.

  
“Really? Because your grades say something different,” Keith said drily.

 

Lance crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. Did he actually look at who got highest and lowest scores on test? Lame.

 

“Dude–whatever, just give me your number so we can sort out what we’re going to do,” he said with a frown.

 

Keith’s scowl deepened, and he held out his hand.

 

“Give me your phone and I’ll punch it in,” he said.

 

“What?! I don’t trust you with my phone,” Lance exclaimed, drawing it away.

 

“Ok princess, do you want me to give you my number or not, because we both know you’re not capable of retaining more than 2 digits,” Keith snapped.

 

With slight reluctance, Lance opened his contacts and handed Keith his phone. The boy tapped the screen, typing for a few seconds, and handing it back.

 

“Was that so difficult?” he asked with a hitched eyebrow.

 

“Go take your fringe somewhere else, asshat,” Lance muttered. 

 

“I thought I had a mullet,” Keith 

 

“Oh piss off, I’ll text you later,” Lance said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking away.

 

Hunk was waiting for him besides the door, fiddling with his hands idly.

 

“Dude, why haven’t you left for class yet?” Lance asked.

 

“Ours are on the same side of campus, we always walk together,” Hunk said matter-of-factly, beginning to move away from the door.

 

“Was that your partner?” he asked after a brief moment.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Lance answered. 

 

“Oh geez, why’d he look so pissed off?” 

 

“Who knows…” Lance said with a pout, purposely ignoring the fact that he made a shitty comment about the guy’s hair before even asking for his name.

 

“Well I hope he doesn’t stay that pissed for the entirety of your project,” Hunk mused, branching away from Lance.“Cya in a couple of hours man.”

 

Lance waved, and then sighed, opening his phone. The contact had been set as “Keith”. 

 

With a slight grin to himself, Lance renamed him “Mullet Twink”, and closed out his phone to walk into class.

 

 

—

 

 

After a couple of more excruciating classes, lunch rolled around. The eating lounges were technically supposed to be mostly silent, but it was too much of a bother for the officials to try and keep up with hundreds of teenagers. 

 

Pidge and Hunk were seated with Lance at a circular table, all of them eating the same shit that the school provided. Some yellow paste that tasted distantly of corn, and ground meat that looked like a blended organ.

 

“Oh shit, you guys have to do group projects?” Pidge said with a grin as he poked at his food.

 

“Yeah, piss poor luck I know,” Lance replied.

 

“So who’d you get paired with?” he asked, shoveling some the yellow stuff into his mouth.

 

“You wouldn’t know any of them, freshman,” Lance teased. “But Hunk got paired with some chick named Courtney, and I got this prick named Keith Ko-gain-e.” 

 

Pidge stilled for a second.

 

“Keith Kogane?” he asked with furrowed brows.

 

“Yeah? You know him?” Lance inquired with a tilt of his head.

 

Pidge blinked twice, readjusting his glasses.

 

“Er–no, I just thought the name sounded familiar,” he said, shoveling more food into his mouth.

 

Lance shrugged, tasting the meat, only to gag slightly.

 

“Lance’s partner seems like an asshole,” Hunk chimed in. “He looked really angry for no apparent reason.” 

 

“Well…” Lance murmured. “I insulted his hair–hey don’t look at me like that–he’s got a fucking mullet! Seriously who has those anymore?” 

 

Pidge snorted.

 

“Dude why would you insult the guy’s hair if you don’t even know him?” 

 

“Because it looks like shit.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Pidge said with a shrug.

 

“What am I gonna text him anyways? I have no idea what a power point is,” Lance groaned.

  
“Lance you fucking moron, a power point presentation is just a bunch of slides with key points on them,” Pidge cackled.

 

Lance groaned, burying his face into his hands.

  
“I’m gonna make myself look like an idiot in front of the jackass with hair that belongs on MTV,” he sighed.

 

“Lance, buddy, who cares? You’re never gonna talk to him again after this project,” Hunk reasoned.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Lance shrugged. “I mean, you can’t look _too_ stupid in front of a Rolling Stones MCR crossover.” 

 

“Glad to see you're feeling more confident man, maybe you’ll get to the point where you can insult something other than his hair,” Pidge said with a grin.

 

“Oh go fuck yourself Pidge,” Lance grumbled, resting his head in his hands, and pausing for a moment.

 

“Maybe I’ll invite him over or something, I hate texting,” Lance said, drumming his fingers against his cheek. 

 

Pidge looked slightly alarmed.

 

“No can do man, me and Hunko are having a movie night,” he said. 

 

“Oook, then maybe I’ll go to his dorm,” Lance tried instead.

 

“Why don’t you just call him or something?” Hunk suggested.

 

Lance scowled.

 

“Calling is as bad as, maybe even worse than texting,” he muttered.

 

“Just do whatever floats your boat man, go over there and fuck like rabbits for all I care,” Pidge said with a sip of water.

 

“Oh, what? Gross, I wouldn’t touch that prick with a ten foot pole,” Lance said, crinkling his nose.

 

“Whatever dude, just don’t bring him over, I don’t wanna hear you complaining about his hair all night.” 

 

“Piss off Pidge.” 

 

 

—

 

 

Once the school day was over, Lance texted Keith asking him if they could meet up somewhere to discuss what they were doing. He hadn’t received a response.

 

Sitting on the bottom bunk of the bed, Lance frowned.

 

“Why isn’t he answering me? Does he care about the project like, at all?” he muttered.

 

“Do you even care, or are you just trying to prove a point,” Pidge said from the top bunk, his leg hanging off the edge.

 

“I–care! It’ s worth a good fraction of my grade!” 

 

Hunk openly laughed, having to wipe away a tear.

 

“Since when did _you_ care about grades?” he said between chuckles.

 

Lance drummed his fingers on his thigh and didn’t respond, brows furrowing.

 

“Dude I was just kidding, don’t get upset,” Hunk said, his laughing fit over.

 

“I’m not upset my man, just waiting for a fucking reply,” Lance murmured, jumping when his phone jumped to life.

 

 

**4:53 p.m. Mullet Twink: we can meet in the jr common room at 5 if u want**

 

Lance scoffed. Good planning ahead, asking to meet somewhere 7 minutes before.

 

**4:54 p.m. Lance ;): sure**

 

Picking up his bag, Lance closed his phone.

 

“Yo, I’m heading off to meet this guy, don’t touch my stuff while I’m gone, cya,” he said, already walking out of the door.

 

The common rooms were only like five minutes away, with huge signs indicating which was which.

 

Opening the door to the Jr. common rooms, he instantly heard lots of chattering inside. Despite the room’s intention, hardly anyone ever studied while in there. It was usually just a place for friend’s to meet up and talk, or to try and study and ultimately fail.

 

Looking around, Lance tried to spot him, or more specifically, he tried to spot his mullet. Not having any success, he instead decided to sit on the end of a local couch.

 

Nearby two girls were talking excitedly to each other about some boy, how he was sending them suggestive looks. The conversation made Lance roll his eyes. Because he wasn’t that boy? Perhaps. The reason was unimportant.

 

A couple of minutes past 5 the door opened. In walked Keith, with his recognizable scowl and god awful hair.

 

Lance waved him over, expecting him to sit down, which he didn’t. So Lance stood up, feeling uncomfortable being looked down on.

 

“Kay, so I was thinking that you research and make half the slides, I’ll do the other half and the audio recording,” Keith said without an introduction. He reeked faintly of smoke.

 

“Nice to see you too,” Lance said sarcastically with a hitched eyebrow. “And that sounds fine, what exactly is the topic going to be on?” 

 

“I was thinking maybe that pilot that Mrs. Montgomery discussed at the beginning of the year.” 

 

“Really? I thought about maybe doing it on the Kerberos mission would be a bit more interesting, since it was more recent and all.” 

 

Keith opened his mouth, and then shut it, scowling.

 

“The Kerberos mission isn’t a topic I’m interested in.” 

 

“Oh but come on! It’d be pretty easy to get information on the pilot for sure, all I have to do is ask one of the officials about Takashi… Or maybe Allura…” Lance mused. 

 

“Even if they did give you information it’d probably be wrong,” Keith muttered, folding his arms.

 

“What? Why would it be wrong?” Lance inquired.

 

“Nothing, ugh whatever, just do the project on whatever you want, text me when you have the notes and slides so that you can give them to me,” Keith said with a shake of his head.

 

“Will do, try not to regurgitate any other 80s trends between now and the next time I see you,” Lance said with a smirk.

 

Keith turned around and left without saying anything else.

 

Frowning, Lance did the same.

 

By the time the time he walked out of the common room, Keith was already long gone. How did he move so quickly? 

 

Glancing at his phone, he saw that it was 5:15. The interaction hadn’t even taken twenty minutes, which was a good and a bad thing he supposed. Good because he didn’t like Keith based on the few interactions that they had together, bad because he’d have to fill his time by doing nothing.

 

Slowing down in his walking speed, he realized that he had his bag with him, which contained his blade. Getting up in the middle of the night probably wouldn’t work anymore, seeing that his friend was now aware of his habits.

 

Instead of heading back to the dorms, Lance detoured to the bathroom, which was mostly empty, and shut himself into a stall. 

 

Opening a pocket in his backpack, he began to dig, partially nervous he’d accidentally cut a finger off. But he didn’t, in fact, he didn’t find it at all. 

 

He began to remove items from the pocket, increasing in urgency. It still wasn’t anywhere to be found.

 

Bouncing his leg, he looked again, and then again, bile slowly rising to his throat and a sense of panic overcoming him.

 

Where did it go? Did Hunk throw it out? 

 

After what was maybe 8 minutes, he dumped all of the contents of his backpack onto the floor, the bathroom now entirely empty. With shaking hands he dug through everything, once, and then twice, and then again.

 

God–fuck, he couldn’t have lost it, he had _just_ seen it. 

 

He had then began to put everything back into it’s respective place, deciding that he’d look for it back in the dorm once, when he found it stuck on the underside of a book that his water had spilled onto.

 

Blinking, he felt a mixture of relief and dread upon seeing it. On the… bright… side, if he hadn’t found it, he would’ve dug up something much worse.

 

Pulling up his sleeve, he tried not to think too hard about his friend or the sad tone he’d have whenever he talked to him about this. 

 

He felt like a god awful person.

 

 

—

 

 

When he was finished, he left the bathroom to go back to his dorm, where Pidge and Hunk were binge watching old disney movies. Walking in, he was greeted with a projector that they probably smuggled playing Lilo and Stitch.

 

“Oh hey Lance, wanna watch a girl adopt a blue furry with us?” Pidge asked, still sitting on the top bunk.

 

“Sure,” Lance said with a small shrug. “Lemme just change into my pajamas.” 

 

“You do that man,” Hunk muttered, thoroughly enraptured by the movie.

 

Lance walked into his closet, pulling out is pajamas. taking off his uniform sleeves with care, Lance quickly changed clothes, tossing his uniform somewhere for him to find later.

 

Stepping outside of the closet, Lance sat on the bottom bunk next to Hunk, looking at the movie being projected on the wall to his left.

 

It was on the wall, making a bit difficult to see, with a speaker sitting right next to it at the lowest volume possible. Nobody was in the mood for a noise complaint.

 

Lance smiled to himself briefly. He hadn’t watched Lilo and Stitch since he was 8 on a slow day at school. It had a nostalgic feel to it.

 

Folding his legs, Lance hummed slightly. For the moment he felt somewhat content, despite the sting on his wrist or the guilt plaguing his mind.

 

Maybe later if he downed enough vodka he’d manage to forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter ^~^ Kudos and comments boost my ego so they’re highly appreciated!


	4. Sensitivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wellllll shit, I've been trying to figure out how to end this for days, but season 6 got me distracted, and then gave me a series of anxiety attacks, so that was fun. I'm not proud of this chapter but enjoy, I have better things planned for this series, please don't give up on me yet.

 

 

The week began to slowly creep along without anything notorious occurring. By the time Thursday rolled around, Lance had already forgotten about his project.

 

He tried to be invested in it, he really did, but it was difficult, without any reminders or sightings of Keith. Where was that guy anyway? Throughout his entire high school career he had never seen him before, and after Monday he didn’t see any more of him. 

 

The guy didn’t text him, even after Lance took the initiative to send one out first.

 

So, as he laid on his bed Friday evening, he tried not to act too surprised when Hunk mentioned it.

 

“Dude, what are you doing for that stupid project by the way,” his friend had said, shuffling cards for a game he was playing with Pidge.

 

Lance laid on his top bunk, lowering his phone away from his face when the realization dawned on him that he hadn’t decided on a topic for their project.

 

“Oh shit,” he breathed, rapidly opening google to look up the Kerberos mission.

 

“He totally forgot,” Pidge gibed. Lance could practically hear the grin in his voice.

 

Turning over to look over the rail, Lance scowled.

 

“I did not forget! I’m going to uhh… Do it on the Kerberos mission!” he stammered, scrolling through articles about the failed expedition.

 

Pidge stopped laying down cards, and instead looked up at him.

 

“Kerberos, huh? What about Kerberos,” he said, an eyebrow hitched. Lance glanced at the article, struggling to form a sentence that would sound like he knew what he was doing.

 

“Er–well I wanted to focus on the pilot because that’d be easiest… Not that I’m being lazy with it or anything! But like I think it’d be more interesting too. I can try and figure out what caused the error on the pilot’s part…”

 

From below him, Pidge’s brows furrowed as he hummed.

 

“You know, maybe this isn’t the best topic for you,” Pidge mused. “Some people are still sorta sensitive about the Kerberos mission.”

 

Lance shrugged, scrolling through a different article absentmindedly. 

 

“And why would I give a fuck about overly sensitive pussies? They’re not the ones that died on the mission,” he sneered.

 

Pidge’s expression turned to that of anger.

 

“We don’t know if they’re dead for sure, so quit being a jackass and find a different topic,” he snapped, dropping the deck of cards. Hunk made a sound of disapproval and quickly began to reshuffle them.

 

“Quit getting your panties in a bunch shortie, it’s not gonna affect _your_ grade or anything,” Lance said with returned irritation.

 

Scowling, Pidge took the card deck from Hunk and began to deal. Lance rolled back over, closing out of the web browser and tossing his phone aside.

 

“For anything that it’s worth, I think it’d be cool if you did your project on Kerberos,” Hunk said, ignoring the pointed stare that he got from Pidge. “I mean, no one ever talks about it, or like tries to speculate what went wrong.”

 

“We know what went wrong, cadet! The pilot was an incompetent shit,” Lance said, mocking Iverson.

 

“Yea but like, Takashi was a really good pilot from what I remember,” Hunk argued. “He couldn’t have fucked up that badly.”

 

Lance shrugged.

 

“You’re looking into this way too much man,” he said. 

 

Neither Hunk nor Pidge said anything else, but continued whatever card game they were playing. Lance pouted, fiddling with a strand of hair.

 

“This is incredibly boring,” he complained, lacing his voice with obnoxiousness.

 

“Oh, go cry about it Lance,” Pidge said, laying down a card and grinning afterwards. Hunk frowned, looking through his cards frantically, and sighing when he had to draw a card from the deck

 

“It’s a Thursday night guys come on, it’s like Friday Jr.,” he whined.

 

“That doesn’t even make sense man,” Hunk said, laying down a card uncertainly.

 

“It totally does,” Lance muttered, looking at his phone again. His fuckface partner still hadn’t texted him back, not that he cared too much, but it was slightly irritating being ignored by the same douche that called you a stupid jock.

 

“This loser guy that I’m paired with still hasn’t texted me back,” he groaned, looking down at his two friends.

 

“Probably doesn’t wanna put up with your shit,” Pidge said with a tiny shrug.

 

“But how am I supposed to tell him about my awesome project proposition?” Lance whined.

 

Pidge opened his mouth, and then closed it, pausing for a moment, and then opening it again.

 

“You sure you wanna do your project on Kerberos and how the… pilot failed?” he said slowly.

 

“Positive,” Lance replied, turning over to climb down his bunk. “But like, why are you so concerned dude? Kerberos hold some emotional value or something?” 

 

“Er, no, I just think it’s a shit topic.”

 

“Well then it’ll be my shit topic,” Lance said with a grin, sitting down next to his friends on the floor to spectate the game.

 

“What the fuck are you playing?” he asked, squinting at the cards.

 

“Chess,” Hunk deadpanned, setting down a card.

 

Lance frowned.

 

“Both of you suck ass,” he muttered. 

 

Several minutes passed, maybe even half an hour, and his two friends had already completed two rounds when he heard a buzz from the top bunk. Jumping, Lance stood up.

 

“Someone’s eager,” Pidge mused. 

 

“As if,” Lance said, crawling up the ladder and grabbing his phone. Surprise surprise, Keith was calling him, the nickname that he gave the boy in bold letters on his screen.

 

Laying down onto his bunk Lance answered, examining his nails idly.

 

“Oh hey dude, thought you’d never bother to call me back,” he said.

 

“What are you doing the project on?” Keith said from the other end, once again refusing to bother with introductions. His audio quality was shit.

 

“No can do sir, I can hardly understand you on the phone,” Lance stated. “Meet me in the lounge like, now.” 

 

“What? Just tell me now,” Keith objected.

 

Lance hung up before any more protests could be made and all but jumped onto the floor, falling over when his knees buckled.

 

“Having fun there?” Hunk asked.

 

Lance flipped him and stood up, grabbing his bag.

 

“I’m gonna go talk to this dude, again, Pidge let Hunk win at some point or he’ll cry and I’ll have to deal with it.”

 

“Will do,” Pidge replied, eyeing his cards.

 

Shutting the door, Lance mad the short walk to the lounges, all but running into the devil himself on the way.

 

“Oh hey, fancy meeting you here mullet,” Lance said with a shit-eating grin.

 

Keith scowled, his usual resting bitch face now drawn into one of mild irritability.

 

Instead of replying, he walked into the lounges that were only a few feet away.

 

“Someone’s friendly,” Lance called after him, inwardly cringing at himself. With everything he said he felt more and more like an idiot around him, and felt more of desire to prove otherwise.

 

Walking into the lounge, he shut the door behind him, and turned to face Keith. 

 

“Ok dude, so like I said before, I was thinking of doing my project on Kerberos,” he started, pausing when he say Keith’s brows knit up.

 

“What, you don’t like that topic?” he asked, raising a brow. 

 

“No, carry on,” the other bit out.

 

“Hm ok, so a lot of people talk about the expedition itself or whatever, but I was considering maybe focusing on more specific things about in? Like the crew, or what went wrong, or what leads everyone to believe it was an error on the pilot’s p–”

 

“So what, you think that the pilot fucked up too?” Keith interrupted, not even attempting to conceal the heat behind his words.

 

Lance blinked. It seemed as though he had hit a soft spot. Some part of him said that he should drop it, but another part wanted to push it, to see how much it bothered him.

 

He wasn't a bad person, really, he just had shit ways of showing it.

 

“I mean yea?” he said. Lance, in all honesty, didn’t really believe that there was a piloting error, in fact he had no opinion on it at all. “The pilot was pretty shit, so I’ve heard…”

 

Keith’s mouth opened, a noise escaping, and then shut it, his jaw working.

 

“Like, he managed to singlehandedly kill his whole entire crew and himself? The dude must’ve been piss poor, it’s a wonder they even sent him on the mission in the first pla–”

 

A few gasps and one shrill scream were heard around the room. Lance had to take a moment to process whatever had just happened. Looking down, his eyes crossed to focus on the blade pressed against his throat.

 

“Listen lover boy, just because you did some quick google searches and listened to Iverson’s shit does _not_ mean that you understand what the fuck you’re talking about,” Keith gritted out, pressing the knife slightly harder to convey his message

 

Lance raised his hands sheepishly, in no mood to be killed.

 

“Calm it down hothead, I was just joking around,” he chaffed awkwardly, trying to figure out how to not get himself decapitated in this scenario. 

 

Keith lowered the blade, fixing Lance with probably one of the edgiest stares he had ever seen. If he weren’t scared half to death, he probably would’ve laughed.

 

Lance rubbed the spot on his throat absentmindedly.

 

“So uhh, we’re not doing it on Kerberos?”

 

“No, dipshit, we’re not doing it on Kerberos,” Keith snapped, stuffing the blade back under his pants leg.

 

“Okaay well, I’m gonna get my notes and shit together by next Thursday. What do ya say we meet up Friday and I give you all the stuff then?” Lance proposed. 

 

“Sure,” Keith replied. “You can figure out where later.”

 

With that he began to walk away, his arms folded like some moody teenage girl that got her phone taken away.

 

“Bye to you too, jackass,” Lance yelled at him, irritated.

 

People whispered as Lance exited the room, most likely trying to figure out what had caused the mysterious knife boy to go off on Lance.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

The moment that Lance arrived back at his dorm, Pidge, who was still seated on the floor with cards in his hand looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“So how’d it go?” he said, shuffling the cards idly.

 

“Well, I nearly got decapitated,” Lance said simply, hoping to have dramatic effect.

 

Hunk looked up at him immediately, surprise painted onto his features.

 

“Woah ok, what the fuck happened?” he said, glaring at Pidge when he tried to look over at his cards.

 

“Did you piss off Keith?” Pidge asked with too much amusement in his voice for Lance to appreciate.

 

“Not intentionally, the prick is just hypersensitive,” Lance defended himself with a pout.

 

“Someone should’ve listened to me,” the small asshat said.

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Lance grumbled, laying down on Hunk’s bed.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Pidge replied.

 

Lance shoved his face into his pillow, drowning out the sounds of his friends talking and attempting to not dwell on why the Kerberos mission was such a sensitive topic for people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the choppy cut off! Please leave kudos and a comment if you want, it'll boost my ego tremendously.


	5. A red solo cup

 

 

If Lance had a dime for every time his friends were complete idiots, he’d be rich enough to shoot Iverson and bribe himself out of jail.

 

Really, was it normal to sit in a laboratory 5 hours after curfew on a Friday night building explosives? Lance had really only agreed to go since he had recently taken his pills, the medicine numbing his emotions and the alcohol muddling his mind.

 

“Hunk, pass me the gunpowder,” Pidge said, sitting on top of a skinny table with his legs straddling the sides.

 

“On it,” Hunk said, sliding a bag of gray powder across the table. Lance watched lazily as Pidge poured it into a cylinder that resembled the traditional appearance of dynamite.

 

“What are you guys gonna do with these anyway?” he asked, absentmindedly touching the prominent bags under his eyes. 

 

“Dunno, blow up something?” Pidge said with a tiny shrug. The way that he sitting looked incredibly uncomfortable, Lance noticed with squinted eyes.

  
“Dude, doesn’t that hurt your dick to sit like that?” he said. Pidge made a squeak of surprise when he spoke and quickly shifted to cross his legs.

 

“Err, is it supposed to?” the younger said awkwardly.

 

“I mean, you were like crushing it, you’d think it hurt,” Lance mused. “Even if you’re only sprouting half an inch.” 

 

Pidge didn’t reply to his remark, but instead poured something else into his explosive concoction. 

 

“See Lance, now you’ve made him uncomfortable,” Hunk chastised, putting a finished explosive to the side.

 

“What! I was just asking a question,” Lance retorted indignantly, his voice bordering a tipsy shout.

 

“Well to answer it, no, it doesn’t, hurt,” Pidge said irritably. 

 

Lance pouted, laying his head down on the table.

 

“You guys are so mean to me,” he whined, watching Hunk roll his eyes.

 

“It’s because we love you,” Pidge replied with a dry tone, tossing an explosive a little too carelessly to the side.

 

Lance groaned obnoxiously, stretching his arms against the table while holding the ends of his sleeves in place.

 

“Keep making a bunch of noise and I’ll take that back and then kick you out,” Pidge added.

 

Despite the warning, Lance sighed deeply. 

 

“That's it, you’re out of here in 10 seconds or I’m activating this explosive and throwing it at you,” Pidge snapped. 

 

Lances stood up quickly, raising his hands in the air.

 

“Ok, damn, I’ll just head over to a house party or something,” he said, making his way towards the door.

 

“Lance… You hate those parties,” Hunk stated slowly, watching as his friend awkwardly back away towards the doors. 

 

“You bet your ass I do, but I’ll just get drunk enough to not care,” Lance replied, offering finger guns. “If I’m not back at our dorms by like 7 am and I haven’t texted you to tell you that I’m getting laid, you should probably look for me.” And with that, Lance was out the door, listening for the tell-tale sounds of music and drunken yelling in the halls.

 

As he approached the Sr. dorms, he heard noises that resembled that of a party. Turning down left down a corridor, he saw a couple of kids sucking face near a door with the deafening sounds of music shaking the ground on the other side.

 

Taking a deep breath, Lance realized that his alcohol induced confidence was gone, the taste of vodka distant on his tongue. 

 

Not giving himself another moment to reflect on how much he fucking hated these sorts of parties, Lance opened the door, shutting it behind him once he walked in.

 

The room was…Exactly what he expected. Drunk children playing beer pong, hideous off beat dancing, freshman standing off awkwardly in the corner with drinks that they’ve probably never seen before in their hands.

 

Frowning at how humid the room was, Lance made his way around the drunken sea to try and find a beverage that would make him feel more at home. The pink lights (that Lance tried in vain to find a source for) faded into a soft white as Lance took a left out of the main living area. 

 

In the kitchen, there was an uninterested Sr. with a couple bottles of booze sitting on the counter and a stack of red solo cups. He was probably some poor soul whose friend decided to make him the bartender.

 

“Hey man, what’s the strongest shit up here?”Lance asked, leaning on the counter in an attempt to look casual.

 

The boy blinked, and then pointed to an interestingly pink beverage.

 

“Pour me like, two cups of those,” he said with a wink. The guy poured Lance his drinks without saying a word, instead pulling out his phone to call someone. Lance didn’t manage to hear any of the conversation though, seeing that he was already walking away, attempting to chug the drink before choking upon realizing how strong is was.

 

After a brief pause, he took a significantly slower sip, for whatever reason determined to down them and become blackout drunk.

 

Probably because he didn’t get too many opportunities to get drunk and just forget everything in the first place.

 

After maybe five minutes standing in the middle of dancing teens, obstructing their paths, Lance managed to finish one cup, feeling considerably lighter afterwards. And–oh, that’s right, there was beer pong, a game that Lance suddenly felt inclined to play.

 

What a night it’d be.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Lance wasn’t 100% sure of what was happening. He was probably some weird hybrid between wasted and stoned, putting some weird substance into his body that he was offered and had never seen before with a concerning amount of ease. Whatever he had been doing for the past like, hour, or maybe ten minutes, led him into the bathroom where a blonde chick was passed out in the tub with a torn condom packet on the ground.

 

Looking into the mirror, Lance stared at himself before he started giggling, nearly falling over if it hadn’t been for his hold on the counter.

 

He felt like he was buzzing, and the aftertaste of like, a million different drinks sat on his tongue, probably making his breath smell foul.

 

At some point there was a knock on the door, and Lance called out something that was probably supposed to sound like “occupied”, but came out as a bit of a slur instead.

 

The door was opened, despite Lance’s unclear mumble, and he was greeted with the sight of a very surprised and seemingly sober Keith, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

 

“Lance!?” 

 

Despite himself, Lance burst laughing, stumbling to drape himself over Keith’s confused frame.

 

“Keeeeithy~” he said before giggling again, his eyes half-lidded and dopey. “You’ve…look like you saw a dead chick.”

 

“I–what? Dude why the fuck are you holding me, and why the fuck did you let yourself get this wasted?” said a perplexed and irritated Keith.

 

Lance’s expression morphed drastically into one of confusion and hurt upon hearing Keith’s irritated tone.

 

“Keithh stop, you’re…fucking wasted,” Lance muttered, trailing off into something inaudible. He pushed himself off of Keith, stumbling into a seated position on top of the closed toilet.

 

“Jesus christ…” Keith muttered, rubbing his temple.

 

If Lance were even a little bit more sober, he’d probably question why Keith of all people was at this stupid fucking party in the first place. 

 

“Come on man, I’m taking you back to your dorm,” the boy said eventually, reaching to help Lance up.

 

“Noo, don’t touch me,” Lance objected.

 

Keith sighed.

 

“Lance please, I need to get you back to your dorm, your friend is going to start to worry.” Keith pulled Lance onto his feet, the other leaning onto him heavily.

 

“No stoppp, get off…Keith,” Lance said a little too loudly, Keith’s name seeming to be an afterthought.

 

“Would you rather I leave you here to choke on your own vomit,” Keith said with exasperation, already walking out of the door with the boy leaning on his side.

 

Maneuvering them through the party proved to be an issue with a very drunk Lance now trying to kiss the other between giggles or shouts of out of context words.

 

Keith somehow managed to get them out into the hallway, where he then had to try and shush a loud Lance.

 

“Hey, Lance, shut up or you’re going to get caught and suspended,” Keith said. Lance smiled, clearly not processing what the other had just said.

 

“You look serious,” he said, much to Keith’s annoyance.

 

“Look dude, I will fucking drag you across these halls with tape over your mouth if you don’t shut up, so zip it or get both of us caught,” he snapped.

 

Lance looked him with a strangely solemn expression.

 

“Ok good, now what’s your dorm room number,” Keith said.

 

“Youu want my number?” Lance asked, his loud tone and wide smile returning. Keith might have overestimated Lance’s ability to recall basic facts.

 

“You know what, ok, you’ll just go to my dorm and then I’ll figure it out from there,” he said, beginning to walk down the halls. Lance opened his mouth to say something, but Keith clasped his hand over it, whispering another warning.

 

Lance frowned, his feelings of being too loud and obnoxious that he had when he was sober causing him to quiet down to indignant mutters, a twinge of anxiety somewhere in the corner of his subconscious. 

 

Keith slowly made his way down the halls, the two minute walk to his dorm taking nearly ten. He had to repress the urge to drag Lance on the floor behind him multiple times.

 

When they got into his dorm, Keith laid Lance onto his bed, and walked off, returning with a bucket that he set on the floor next to it.

 

“Hey, if you’re going to vomit, do it in that, don’t vomit on my bed, thanks,” he said curtly, before grabbing a water bottle and sitting on the bed next to Lance.

 

“Sit up,” he said, unscrewing the bottle cap. Lance made a noise that sounds like protest, but complied anyways, sitting up slowly, his body swaying slightly.

 

“Drink this,” Keith offered Lance the bottle, who took it after slight hesitation and drank a bit. Keith visibly cringed when an embarrassing amount of water dribbled onto Lance’s shirt.

 

“Ok dude that’s enough, more water’s going onto your clothes than into your mouth,” he muttered, taking the bottle away from the other.

 

“Lay back down, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” Lance complied, watching as Keith disappeared into his closet drowsily, and falling asleep impressively quick.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Lance woke up in a bed that wasn’t his with a splintering headache, and a phone full of notifications.

 

His first thought was that he got laid, and was in some chick’s dorm, until he saw a suspiciously familiar knife lying on a nearby dresser.

 

Instantly he sat up, a little too quickly for his headache’s taste. Rubbing his temple with a hiss, he glanced around the room, spotting Keith sat on a chair with his phone in hand.

 

“Oh hey, you’re awake,” he said somewhat disinterestedly.

 

“I’m–what the fuck? Why am I in your dorm?” Lance looked around in confusion for context clues. He was fully clothed, with a bucket next to his bed.

 

“I found you nearly passed out in a bathroom last night and took it upon myself to make sure that you didn’t actually pass out and hit your head on the counter,” Keith said, setting his phone down to stand up and offer Lance a water.

 

Lance hesitantly took it, still glaring up at Keith.

 

“So we didn’t like, fuck, and this is the aftermath and I’ll have to take a walk of shame in a few minutes?” 

 

“Oh, what? God, no,” Keith said, his nose scrunching up in disgust. 

 

Lance unscrewed the bottle’s lid.

 

“Why were you even at that shitty party anyways? Doesn’t seem like your type of crowd,” Lance asked after briefly taking a sip.

 

Keith looked at Lance with furrowed brows for a brief moment before sighing.

 

“Shiro used to drag me to parties all the time, to try and make me more social, so I thought I’d go on my own and try to enjoy myself.” 

 

Lance blinked.

 

“Shiro? As in like, Takashi Shirogane kind of Shiro? You knew him?” he said with bewilderment. 

 

Keith’s lips twitched into a humorless smirk, before falling back into a frown.

 

“Did I know him? Shiro practically raised me, he’s like my brother,” Keith murmured, looking away from Lance.

 

Lance pulled himself into a proper sitting position with his legs crossed, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable twinge of pain that he got in his temple.

 

“Soo, is that why you hate Kerberos so much?” Lance dared to ask, mapping out his escape plan mentally in case Keith decided to try and stab him again.

 

Keith returned his gaze to the other, before laughing quietly.

 

“I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell any of this shit to you, but yes, that’s why I hate Kerberos. It was his dream to go but they sort of…took him from me,” Keith said, a sad tone seeping into his voice.

 

Lance watched as Keith grabbed his knife off of the dresser and put it under his pants leg.

 

“Why’d Shiro have to raise you?” he asked. Keith looked up immediately, seemingly surprised. Lance raised his hands in an apologetic manner. “Sorry! That’s a personal question, you don’t have to answer.” 

 

Keith sighed. 

 

“My mom left when I was one, and my dad died when I was seven. Does that answer it for you?” 

 

Lance sputtered, shocked that he actually answered, and shocked with the answer that he received.

 

“I–uh, yes it does answer my question! Maybe I should say something personal, it’d be like a fair trade…” he said, trailing off with words that were half to himself.

 

“I don’t care about your personal life, McClain, I just want you to stop asking me stupid questions,” Keith stated, his dry demeanor returning.

 

Huh, that stung a bit.

 

“Well shit, thanks for expressing a deep and profound interest in what I have to say,” Lance said with a scowl, refusing to allow the other to see the slight hurt that his words caused. Lance tended to struggle with believing that other people actually cared about what he thought anyway, and Keith’s words just added fuel to the fire.

 

“Whatever, do you want a hangover cure or something before you leave? I whipped up something last night so that I wouldn’t have to hear you bitch about it,” Keith asked, picking up a mug and swishing the unappealing looking contents around.

 

“No, I’m good, thanks for helping me I guess,” Lance said standing up slowly, pushing down nausea and grabbing his phone.

 

“Stop ignoring my texts and calls, I want to get this stupid project over with, cya,” Lance was already seeing himself out of the door, shutting it behind him.

 

Lance stood in the corridors, still slightly bewildered that Keith had managed to stumble upon a wasted Lance, and actually bothered to make sure he didn’t die. Well, in hindsight it made sense, considering that Keith wouldn’t get a good grade on their project if Lance were dead.

 

Sighing, Lance made his way towards his dorms, checking his phone and immediately feeling guilty.

 

 

**4:42 a.m. Hank: Hey dude, it’s only been like two hours but I kinda thought you’d give up on the whole party thing by now, text me so i don’t think ur dead.**

 

**5:03 a.m. Hank: Lance plz i’m not gonna be able to sleep, just like give me a call or a text**

 

**5:10 a.m. Hank: i’m gonna go looking for you soon if u don’t answer**

 

**5:11 a.m. Pidgeon: hey uh hunk is gonna have an aneurysm soon if u don’t answer him**

 

**5:12 a.m. Pidgeon: im going to bed, text him back before he has a panic attack**

 

**5:32 a.m. Hank: i looked like everywhere and i can’t find u, pidge said ur probably boning a girl rn, but like i just wanna be sure**

 

**5:48 a.m. Hank: i’m going to bed but if u dont text me or show up tomorrow im gonna tell the main officials that you’ve been drugged & kidnapped**

 

****

Lance promptly texted his friend back, gushing out words of apologizes whilst making his way back to his dorm and trying not to vomit all at the same time.

 

Taking a left, Lance found himself in front of his door, and opened it as quickly as possible.

 

Hunk was sat on the floor with his phone in his hand with a Pidge sitting beside him.

 

“Lance! What the fuck, I thought you were dead, what happened, why didn’t you text me back…well you just did text me back but why didn’t you text me before then!” he cried out, his voice bordering a concerned shout.

 

“Gahh, Hunk I’m really sorry, I got wasted and that Kogane kid had to drag me back to his dorm so that I wouldn’t die and–”

 

“Wait wait wait wait, _Keith_ found you? Why the fuck was he at that party,” Pidge exclaimed with disbelief.

 

“Oh yea that, apparently I was about to pass out in a bathroom, and he was there because his dead brother used to force him to go to parties or whatever, and he took it upon himself to make sure that I didn’t choke on puke I guess,” Lance said casually, like it was an everyday occurrence.

 

“His dead brother?” Hunk asked. 

 

“Yea the Kerberos pilot raised him or something, I dunno, the guy really skimps out on details.” 

 

Pidge didn’t participate in this portion of the conversation, but instead watched as Hunk expressed shock.

 

“The pilot was his brother? That’s insane,” Hunk said. “Man, offering to do Kerberos as a project was an awful idea.” 

 

Lance chuckled, the recent memory of nearly being stabbed somehow humorous now with context.

 

“Right you are, I probably should’ve listened to Pidge for like, once,” he said. Pidge smirked and gave him a thumbs up, before his expression fell back into a frown.

 

Lance walked around his friends and into his closet to change.

 

“Oh look, Lance is closeted again,” he heard Pidge say. Hunk made a response that was muffled and quiet, but Lance wasn’t trying too hard to listen.

 

In a short period of time, Lance changed into a different pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and walked out.

 

“Oh look, Lance came out of the closet,” Pidge said. Lance grinned.

 

“Guys guess what, I’m bisexual,” he whispered seriously. 

 

Hunk mock gasped, covering his mouth with his hands.

 

“Wait, so you like _men_ and _women_!?” he exclaimed.

 

Lance smiled, sitting on the edge of Hunk’s bunk.

 

“Yup, guess that means that I can score a date with practically anyone, no hay problema,” he said, smiling.

 

Pidge grinned.

 

“Not with someone that’s aro,” he teased. 

 

“Ok well, aromantic people don’t count!” he retorted. “I can still score a date with nearly anyone!” 

 

Hunk laughed, resting his head on the edge of the bed. Pidge laid down on the floor to stare at the ceiling. 

 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I spotted a leak,” he said absentmindedly. 

 

“What the fuck, that’d be awful,” Lance replied, resting his head in his hand.

 

Pidge smirked, but didn’t say anything else.

 

The three of them sat in silence, looking at nothing in particular and thinking of nothing in particular. Because nothing in particular was happening, nor was anything in particular important. All that there was was the sound of the air conditioning vents drumming and voices outside of the door.

 

So basically, nothing in particular.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually some parts that I quite like about this chapter, surprisingly. If you guys like parts of this chapter too, leave some kudos and a comment because it boosts my ego and encourages me to write more :'D. Also writing drunk Lance is more entertaining than it should be, but writing him is just generally entertaining soo


	6. Smoky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all over the place, sorry kids

 

 

 

 

Lance stared at the blade on his ground, his mind turning with contemplation. Hunk had left the dorm with Pidge to do some lame science shit nearly an hour ago.

 

Of course, Lance could’ve used this time alone to do something normal like, sing really loud, or walk around naked. But for whatever reason, the first thing he decided upon was digging his blade out of his bag and sitting in the middle of the ground, attempting to force himself to get up and go for a run instead.

 

It was a week later on Friday, and Lance had made a strong effort to forget waking up in Keith’s dorm and being told that the kid was basically an orphan. The entire situation was just all around awkward, which was probably why Keith hadn’t bothered to text him since then regarding their project.

 

Lance sighed, picking up the blade with a shaking hand and fiddling it around. Maybe he’d just do a little bit and _then_ go run–but that’d defeat the purpose of the run in the first place.

 

Bile rose to his throat. He felt guilty as he pulled down his sleeve, his pulse racing.

 

Just one, he thought.

 

A few seconds after he sliced once his pulse didn’t calm down, but his entire body felt cooler. And his mind pushed him to do it again, and again, and again, and again, until his entire arm was dripping.

 

Was it weird that he didn’t cry? It didn’t really hurt, so he had no reason to.

 

After what could have only been ten minutes, he stood up from the ground, tucking his blade back into his bag quietly, and dabbing a red cloth over his arm. He pulled his sleeve back into place, now unsure of what to do.

 

Pidge and Hunk would literally kill him if he tried to bother them, and he didn’t really _have_ any other friends. Allura could’ve been considered a friend, but Lance thought that he always annoyed her and thus avoided being with her on his own.

 

There was Keith, an acquaintance, who would probably be even more pissed if Lance contacted him. 

 

He could always cover it up as something project related rather than an attempt to rid of his newfound boredom. If he could even call it that it, it was more of an emptiness fueled by chemically caused sadness and a twinge of anxiety.

 

His arm stung, he realized, as he reached to grab his phone and dial Keith. After maybe four rings the other picked up.

 

“What do you want?” the other said irritably, the sound quality crackling.

 

“Oh yea uh, I’m finished with my notes and shit if you want me to bring them to you?” Lance asked, fiddling with a strand of hair.

 

“Fuck, sure, whatever, just bring it to my dorm, I’m not going back to that humid fucking common room,” Keith replied.

 

Lance frowned.

 

“Send me your location or something, I forgot where your place is,” Lance said, grabbing his bag off of the floor.

 

“Fine,” the other said before hanging up.

 

Scowling slightly, Lance lowered the phone from his ear and walked out of the door, feeling his phone vibrate from a new message. 

 

Was Keith’s dorm really only a hallway down? His drunken brain recalled it being like a city away.

 

With a tiny shrug he walked down the halls, watching students leave their makeup evening classes, and officers give every student a side glance to make sure the they weren’t up to no good.

 

It only took a couple of minutes for him to wind up in front of Keith’s door, a few scratches on the doorknob that he had previously missed.

 

He knocked twice, shuffling his feet.

 

“The door’s unlocked!” called a muffled Keith from the other side.

 

Slowly he opened the door, greeted to the smell of smoke, and what seemed like cinnamon. Keith laid draped across his bed, polishing his knife.

 

When Lance entered fully, Keith looked over at him, disinterest painting his features.

 

“Hey,” he said drily, examining his blade.

 

“Sup, Keith,” Lance said awkwardly, shutting the door behind him. Looking closely at the other, he realized that his eyes were a dark shade of purple. Did eyes actually come in that color? 

 

“Put your bag down, it’s irritating to look at you holding it,” Keith said, sitting up. 

 

Lance tossed his bag into a nearby chair, seeing it nearly fall off, but managing to stay in place.

 

He watched as the other sheathed his blade and tucked it under his pants leg.

 

“Are you gonna give me the notes or what?” Keith asked, resting his head on his hand. 

 

Oh, right. Lance was only there to give Keith the notes. 

 

“Yea one sec,” he replied, walking over to his bag and digging through it for haphazardly rubber banded note cards.

 

“Here, catch,” he said, tossing the cards over to the other. Keith reached his hand up and grabbed the cards.

 

“Cool, thanks,” the boy disinterestedly muttered, shuffling through them idly. 

 

Lance wasn’t sure of what to do. He couldn’t tell if he was supposed to leave or not. Ideally, he didn’t want to, the entire point of giving Keith his notes was so that he wasn’t by himself to do any more self destructive things.

 

After a couple of minutes of just standing around, Keith slowly looked up at him, his brows furrowed.

 

“Why are you still here?” he asked, blinking. Lance stiffened, making a conscious effort to ignore his pang of anxiety.

 

“Oh well since you’re uh, so curious,” he started, shuffling his feet against the carpet. “If I go back to my dorm, I’ll probably like, kill myself, intentionally or unintentionally who knows, so I’m gonna bother the fuck out of you instead.” He added a wink and finger guns at the end, his shaking hands giving away his rising anxiety.

 

Keith was going to kick out anyway, he knew that, the other looking thoroughly unimpressed. Keith’s eyes scrolled up and down the other, landing on his face, which was desperately trying to maintain a forced grin.

 

Eventually he sighed, drumming his fingers against his cheeks.

 

“Fine, hang around, just don’t fucking touch anything. And I’m going onto the roof in like, two minutes so I guess you can come,” Keith said, watching as Lance lowered his finger guns.

 

“Oh shit, you’re actually letting me stick around? Thanks?” he blinked with confusion, his chest aching from anxiety.

 

“Sit down, it’s pissing me off to see you standing there like that. I’m going to grab a few things and then we’re leaving,” Keith stood from the side of his bed, walking to his closet. Lance sat on the chair next to his backpack, awkwardly tapping his foot.

 

Keith returned a few moments later with a backpack and shoes on.

 

“Come on,” he said, walking towards the door. Lance’s eyes followed him, noticing how brisk his walk was. Like he always needed to move swiftly out of the fear that the world would leave him behind. If that were the case, Lance couldn’t relate, possessing a slightly nihilistic outlook on things.

 

Standing up, he followed the other out of the now open door, pausing to let him lock it before continuing to walk away.

 

Neither of them held the concern of being caught by officials, with it being two hours before curfew. No words were spoken between them, the silence being broken occasionally by other passing students.

 

Eventually they ended up on the roof, Keith setting down his bag and sitting on the edge, his head resting on his knee. 

 

Lance sat down on the edge as well, a bit more carefully, looking out at the now dark sky.

 

He could feel the other’s eyes on him, coldly curious, but quiet nonetheless. 

 

After a couple of minutes, Keith stretched out his arm to grab his bag, digging through it and then pausing.

 

“Do you smoke?” he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Lance met the other’s dry gaze, before shaking his head.

 

“I wouldn't mind having one though,” he added quickly when Keith began to turn away.

 

With a small shrug, the other handed Lance the pack. Pulling out a cigarette, he took the lighter that Keith offered to him. 

 

His brows furrowed as he tried to work the lighter, eventually succeeding after a couple of tries and lighting the cigarette.

 

He didn’t put it to his lips yet, and instead gave Keith the pack and lighter back, waiting until the other wasn’t looking at him before inhaling.

 

Almost instantly he broke out into a coughing fit. Keith cracked a small smile, watching Lance struggle from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Having trouble?” he asked with a quirked brow, swiftly taking a drag from his own cigarette, and exhaling with a smirk.

 

Lance glared at him as aggressively as he could while coughing.

 

“Fuck you,” he spat, the fit starting to calm down. There wasn't any true heat behind his words.

 

Keith didn’t respond, but instead turned his gaze towards the sky, looking at the stretching plane runways and buildings that slowly gave way to the desert, which morphed into the town.

 

Lance’s phone buzzed from his pocket, so he took it out to see a text from Pidge.

 

**7:14 p.m. Pidgeon: hey dude where tf did u go?**

 

Blinking, he realized that he had promised to do face masks and paint his nails with his friends.

 

**7:15 p.m. Lance ;): sorry dude, i got bored of waiting and went up onto the roof. u can come if u want i guess.**

 

Keith wouldn’t mind if he invited them up, would he? 

 

“Hey Mullet?” he asked, watching as the other turned his head.

 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he scowled. Lance ignored him.

 

“Do you care if my friends come up here?” 

 

Keith frowned, his mannerisms practically screaming that he wanted to say no. But, he sighed, taking another drag.

 

“You know what, fuck it, sure, just don’t be loud,” he replied irritably. 

 

“Cool, thanks,” Lance said, seeing if Pidge had replied. With a scowl, he realized that he had been left on read. ****

 

Keith had begun to continue looking at the stars, fiddling with the cigarette between his fingers. Lance put his phone down, watching the way that the moonlight influenced the world around it.

 

“Why do you go here?” Keith asked. It was quietly spoken, almost like a thought that had been accidentally spoken out loud.

 

“What?” Lance blinked with confusion. The other looked at him through the corners of his eyes.

 

“Why do you go to this shithole? You have friends, you probably have a really big family, with dogs, and you seem like a mamas boy. Are you actually interested in piloting? Or do you just like being around other people that are suffering?”

 

Lance’s expression morphed into one of mild anger. Who the fuck did Keith think he was? His fingers drummed against the ground.

 

“I guess you’re right, I am a mamas boy and I have a pretty big family. We had a dog, but my dad locked him out one winter because he didn’t wanna deal with it so it died,” he grumbled, irritation causing his fingertips to drum faster.

 

Keith quirked a brow.

 

“Oh, your dog died, how sad,” he said, frowning around the cigarette.

 

Lance glared at him from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Yes, asshole, my fucking dog died, and if you think that’s why I’m here then you’ve got your head up your ass,” he snapped.

 

Keith tapped off a few ashes.

 

“Oh yea? Then why don’t you give me your sob story, pretty boy? Mommy wouldn’t let you go to regular school because she wanted to raise a successful kid?” 

 

“Hmm not quite, not even close really,” Lance started with a forced even tone. “My mom’s sort of really mentally ill, to the point where she can’t even function, and my dad’s an abusive asshole and gets pissed off at her for her mental state. Oh, and my little brother committed suicide so that was fun.”

 

“I kind of just assumed that shit would be a little bit better here, at the stupid fucking Galaxy Garrison, and maybe I could be around some people that didn’t want to rip each other’s throats out constantly. Your guess was pretty ok though.” 

 

Keith’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t reply instantly, and instead took a swift drag. 

 

“Well now I sound like an asshole,” he mused eventually, breathing out smoke through his nostrils.

 

Lance grinned coldly.

 

“Ya think?” 

 

Keith’s mouth opened, maybe to express an apology, but he couldn’t get much out before the door to the roof was all but kicked open.

 

“Hey, _asshole_ thanks for leaving us a fucking note or–” Pidge started, stopping dead in his tracks.

 

Keith turned around to see who was causing the disruption, all but dropping his cigarette at the sight of Pidge, and then squinting.

 

“Matt?” he said, his voice strained and confused.

 

Pidge opened his mouth, and then closed it, panic evident in his features.

 

“What? Who the fuck is Matt?” Lance asked, but was ignored by Keith, who stood up to walk towards Pidge.

 

“Wait no, you’re not Matt…Who the fuck are you? Why do you have Matt’s hair and glasses? Did you fucking steal them?” 

 

Hunk stood behind Pidge, who was now inches away from Keith’s face, sputtering to try and say something that would calm down an agitated and terrifying Keith.

 

“Ok um, I don’t wanna interrupt anything here, but what the hell is going on,” Hunk said, glancing between Keith and Pidge nervously.

 

“I don’t know, you tell me why the fuck this twink looks exactly like my brother’s boyfriend,” he snapped, gesturing towards Pidge.

 

“Shiro had a boyfriend?” Lance inquired, walking towards the commotion.

 

“Yes! Matt Holt, he had the exact same fucking glasses as whoever this is,” Keith exclaimed.

 

Pidge shuffled his hands, smiling awkwardly.

 

“Well uhm, I guess you could say I knew him? And we lived together? We’re siblings,” he explained, not meeting Keith’s confused and irritated gaze.

 

“Matt doesn’t have a brother,” he frowned.

 

“No! You're right, but he uh _does_ have a sister… And that sister is me I guess…” Pidge trailed off.

 

Lance gawked at…him? 

 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait… You’re a _girl_!?” he all but yelled, examining Pidge critically.

 

“I mean, yeah? Sometimes I like, forget that I am, but I pretended to be a boy so that I could get into the Garrison.” 

 

“Wait so, what do we call you?” Hunk asked, fiddling with his fingers.

 

“I uhh…” Pidge started, glancing around between him, Lance, and a skeptical Keith. “You can address me like a girl and shit when we’re not around officials?”

 

“And why can’t we call you a chick around officials?” Hunk questioned.

 

Pidge opened her mouth, and then closed it, contemplating her answer.

 

“Well you see, Katie Holt wouldn't have been allowed to attend the Garrison because she yelled at Iverson when her brother and dad disappeared, so I applied as Pidge Gunderson instead,” she said, looking down.

 

“Wait– _fuck_ , is this why you got so bent out of shape every time I mentioned Kerberos?” Lance asked.

 

Pidge, despite herself, grinned.

 

“Yea I guess, that and I kinda assumed that Keith would cut out your organs and sell them on the black market if you offered to do Kerberos as your project,” she replied.

 

Keith frowned.

 

“How’d you even know who I was?” he asked skeptically. 

 

“Shiro wouldn’t fucking shut up about you every time that Matt brought him over. He even showed me a few pictures,” Pidge replied with a shrug.

 

Keith’s expression softened into one of slight sadness. 

 

“Oh, that’s nice,” he murmured.

 

The four of them stood silently, unsure of what to say next.

 

Lance tapped his foot on the ground, glancing over towards the town’s sparkling lights.

 

“Hey, I’m fucking starving, do any of you want pizza?” he asked, grinning slightly when everyone looked at him in confusion.

 

“Lance, what the actual fuck,” Pidge said, squinting at him. “Of course I fucking want pizza.” 

 

“Ok what the hell, we were just talking about something really heavy and important,” Keith said with confusion.

 

“Yea and now we’re talking about food, keep up Mullet head,” Lance retorted. “Do you wanna get pizza with us?” 

 

Keith frowned glancing about the three of them.

 

“I’m lactose intolerant,” he said reluctantly.

 

“Oh, I have pills!” Pidge grinned.

 

With a small scowl on his face, Keith released a sigh.

 

“Ok fine. But like first, I don't even know big guy here’s name,” he grumbled, gesturing towards Hunk.

 

“Oh I guess I never introduced myself. I’m Hunk, Hunk Garrett, pleasure to meet you,” Hunk replied quickly.

 

“Cool,” Keith said with sudden disinterest. “Now how the fuck do you want us to get pizza like an hour before curfew?” 

 

 

 

—

 

 

Getting into town wasn’t hard, the Garrison Trio showed Keith. Apparently he had never bothered to go before, preferring to sneak out to “other places”.

When they arrived at the pizza parlor, which was about two miles away from the ice-cream place, they all individually emptied their pockets to scrap together $25. 

 

“It smells like unhealthiness in here,” Pidge said, handing Hunk her $3.

 

“What, did you want it to smell like a natural foods shop?” Lance teased. Keith stood awkwardly a little ways away from them, observing the conversation instead of participating.

 

Frowning, Lance turned to Keith, offering him a shit eating grin, despite his earlier irritation with him.

 

“Hey knife boy, quit pouting over there and help me pick out a table,” he said, grabbing Keith’s arm and ignoring his protest.

 

“I don’t give a shit about what table we sit at,” Keith complained. When Lance didn’t relent, he sighed.

 

“Ok fine, this one I guess,” he said, pointing at a random booth grudgingly.

 

“Great choice!” Lance grinned, sliding into the booth and watching as Keith sat across from him.

 

After a couple of moments, Pidge sat next to Lance, slapping her change onto the table.

 

“Ok, we had $1.32 to spare, so who wants the cash,” she said right as Hunk sat down across from her.

 

“Me!” Lance said too enthusiastically, attempting to snatch the money away from her.

 

“Nah not you, you fucking made fun of the dick that I don’t have ever since I met you,” she teased.

 

“But I was _right_ kind of… I mean you don’t have a small dick, you just don’t have one at all,” Lance complained, slumping over the table.

 

“Who else wants the cash,” Pidge said, waving it tauntingly. 

 

“I mean I’ll take it? I guess, I don’t fucking know,” Keith said with a small shrug. 

 

“Good idea Keith, this will be a gift to properly initiate you into our group of shitty people,” Pidge joked, handing him the money.

 

“Initiate?” Keith cocked his head to the side, in what Lance found to be an amusing confusion.

 

“Yea I mean, if we buy someone pizza you gotta be apart of the group, it’s the rule,” she replied. “When we get our drinks we can do a toast to you and hopefully make you uncomfortable enough to hang out with us again.” 

 

“Oh uh, I don’t think I’m well suited for a friend group,” Keith said hesitantly. Lance _tched,_ looking up at Keith.

 

“Well that’s the most edgy lone wolf shit I’ve heard all year,” he grinned.

 

Keith scowled at him, looking up when a woman approached them with their pizza and drinks.

 

Lance sat up, taking his food with a grin still remaining.

 

Once everyone had received their plates, Lance raised a glass, watching as Pidge and Hunk mimicked him with equally wide grins.

 

Keith squirmed awkwardly in his seat, uncomfortable at the prospect of being given so much attention.

 

“To all emos, big and small, 80s and current day,” Lance said a little too loudly for Keith’s taste.

 

“To all emos!” Pidge and Hunk repeated, clinking their glasses with Lance’s before sipping. “And now lets fucking eat,” Pidge added, already picking up a slice of her pizza.

 

Keith smiled slightly, and picked up his pizza as well, not saying a word.

 

For the rest of the night he was quiet, but the smile never left his face, a fact that Lance took to be a personal victory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Fluorescent Margiritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took so long to come out, but season 7 had me fucked up so I got distracted.

 

 

“I don’t know how to be a friend.”

 

Lance side glanced at Keith, his brows furrowed.

 

The two of them somehow ended up on the roof again, a few days after the whole pizza parlor encounter. Keith exhaled cigarette smoke from his nostrils. The night sky was decorated with a few clouds here and there, reducing the amount of visible stars ever so slightly.

 

“What, you too cool to be friends with someone?” Lance asked with a grin. 

 

Keith frowned.

 

“No, I just don’t know how to be friends with someone. I have no idea how to treat another person,” he replied, tapping off some of his ashes.

 

Lance’s grin fell into a confused grimace. 

 

“So what, is that your way of saying that you don’t wanna be friends with us? Because you don’t have to be dude, I get it.”

 

“I, don’t think that’s what I mean?” Keith tilted his head, uncertain of what he was saying. “I think I just want to let you know. So that you can cut me some slack or something.”

 

Lance watched the other, his gross haircut lifted by a slight breeze. He could tell that Keith was uncertain, the boy doing everything he could to avoid Lance’s gaze.

 

“Well I already figured that you don’t know shit about talking to people,” Lance shrugged, turning his eyes towards the stars, which glistened confidently. “And if I didn’t cut you any slack, I would’ve called you a useless orphan prick by now,” he added, watching Keith’s angry huff of smoke at the words.

 

“Dude what the actual fuck?” he snapped.

 

Lance shrugged innocently, his eyes shining with an uncaring mirth. 

 

“Sorry man, had to get you back for the bullshit you said about why I came here or whatever.”

 

Keith’s scowl faltered, a grin spreading across his typically stony face.

 

“I fucking hate you,” he said without any heat behind his words.

 

“Thanks, you’re not to bad yourself,” Lance replied. Keith chuckled slightly, the smile moving to meet his eyes.

 

Lance tore his gaze from the stars, instead looking down at the buildings and planes that were littered across the Garrison’s campus. Planes, and places to store planes littered the ground, reminding Lance distantly of what a lousy pilot he was.

 

“If I jumped off right now, do you think a miraculous plane would come and catch me?” he asked lazily, reveling in Keith’s surprised sputter. 

 

“What kind of question is that?” Keith asked in confusion, staring at Lance’s distant expression.

 

Silence ensued, before Lance tore his gaze from the runways to look at Keith, grinning.

 

“I was just joking,” he said smirking at Keith’s unbelieving expression. “Really, if I jumped off intentionally I wouldn’t want a plane to catch me.” 

 

Keith frowned.

 

“Was that a suicide joke?” he squinted.

 

“Maybe, depends on what you find funny,” Lance replied simply with a shrug. 

 

“I don’t find suicide funny,” Keith scowled.

 

Lance smiled, a very cold and detached humor lighting his eyes.

 

“No one really finds it funny until they try it,” he said with a wink. “But you don’t strike me as the sort of person to.” 

 

Keith scoffed.

 

“Now that’s funny,” he said drily, pressing the cigarette to his lips.

 

“No really!” Lance pressed. “You seem like the kind of guy that’s too prideful to just ‘give up’ or whatever, so you stick it out.” 

 

Furrowing his brows, Keith blew out a bit of smoke.

 

“Cool. You’re wrong,” he replied simply.

 

Lance shrugged indifferently. 

 

“I usually am.”

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

The deadline for Keith and Lance’s project grew near, forcing them to have to be around each other more, not that they minded nearly as much as they did a few weeks ago. Lance typically ended up in Keith’s dorm, sitting on the floor while applying nail polish and listening to Keith’s audio recordings, critiquing bits and pieces of it.

 

Once you got to know Keith he wasn’t really that bad, Lance soon learned after being around him more and more.

 

Even though his social skills were shit, and his hair was awful enough to make someone cry, Lance enjoyed his company, his bluntness entertaining, and his general obliviousness to things endearing.

 

Pidge and Hunk seemed to agree, requesting for Keith to be in their company whenever they could. 

 

Like now, the four of them hanging out by playing Mario Cart on Pidge’s gaming console in Keith’s dorm, everybody agreeing to smuggle some form of alcohol so that they were all tipsy. It was the middle of the night, probably around 1:30 a.m. on a Saturday. Keith, angry that he had managed to get last place, threw a controller at the TV, ultimately cracking it. It still worked, thankfully, but Pidge screamed at him for a solid ten minutes before attempting to chug an entire bottle of vodka and somehow succeeding, only gagging a little bit.

 

“Pidge you're gonna get alcohol poisoning,” Hunk fretted.

 

“Fuck you,” she said a bit too loudly, shoving her middle finger in his face. 

 

Lance snickered, spinning his remote in his hand.

 

“Looks like someone can’t handle their liquor,” he teased.

 

“Oh, and you’re talking,” Keith retorted, grinning slightly.

 

“Piss off mullethead, I was literally wasted,” Lance shot back, sticking his tongue out at the other childishly.

 

“Yea you’re right,” Keith said with a shrug. “Guess you just couldn’t handle your liquor.”

 

Lance took off his shoe and threw it at the him, laughing at Keith’s baffled reaction.

 

Hunk snickered from across the room, holding a half full bottle of wine above Pidge’s head, with the shorter trying in vain to reach it.

 

Lance threw his other shoe at Keith, scowling when it flew above the other’s head, hitting the wall and leaving a scuff on it.

 

“Nice shot, sharpshooter,” Keith quirked a brow.

 

“Fuck off,” Lance frowned.

 

Pidge sat on the ground, having given up on trying to steal the wine bottle from a much taller Hunk.

 

“This is boring,” she complained. “Hunk lemme drink the rest of that so that we can play spin the bottle.” 

 

Hunk sighed, shaking his head.

 

“You’re going to actually get drunk if I let you have any more,” he said sternly.

 

“Yo, I’d be down to play spin the bottle,” Lance chipped in, to Hunk’s annoyance.

 

“Hah! See, Hunk, Lance want’s to play too,” Pidge retorted, standing up and grabbing the bottle from his now lowered hand.

 

Before Pidge could get even a sip, Lance snatched it from her, having walked up a few moments ago. 

 

“Hey now, don’t hog all of the booze,” he teased with a quirked brow.

 

“Hey, you are _not_ drinking the rest of that and getting drunk for us to have to deal with,” Keith said immediately from where he was still sitting on the ground, a few feet away from Lance.

 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll make sure to share,” Lance grinned at the other before taking a sip directly from the bottle.

 

“You guys have no wine etiquette,” Hunk complained.

 

“We’re teenagers,” Pidge shrugged. “We don’t have any etiquette.” 

 

Lance lowered the bottle from his lips, a quarter of the beverage remaining. Handing it to Keith, he sat down, beckoning Hunk and Pidge over to form a circle.

 

Keith’s nose wrinkled as he drank, lowering the empty bottle with a frown.

 

“Jesus fuck, did you guys choose the most bitter shit that you could find?” he muttered, furrowing his brows.

 

“Nah, we just chose the good shit,” Hunk said, seated with his legs crossed.

 

Keith didn’t reply, but instead set the bottle in the middle of their small circle, pointing it at himself.

 

“I feel like we don’t have enough people for this,” he fretted.

 

Lance shrugged, unworried.

 

“I’ll just text Allura then,” he stated, already pulling out his phone.

 

“Aaa–uh, how about we _don’t_ do that?” Pidge said with alarm, her drunken tongue tripping to keep up with her thoughts.

 

“What, you don’t want a chance to kiss a hot Sr. cadet?” Lance teased.

 

“No it’s just… She probably isn’t even awake right now.” 

 

“Dude, have you see her sleeping schedule?” Lance asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“Yea Pidge uhh, I’m gonna have to side with Lance here, Allura literally doesn’t go to sleep until like 6 am,” Hunk chimed in.

 

Pidge groaned into her hands, watching through her fingers as Lance sent a text.

 

“Wait, does Allura even know that you’re a girl?” Hunk inquired.

 

“Yea, I met her while I was with my father like a year ago, so I got introduced to her as Katie,” Pidge shrugged.

 

Lance’s phone buzzed as he received a reply.

 

“Oh sick, she said she’ll head down and bring…fluorescent margaritas?” he raised his eyebrows at Allura’s choice of words.

 

Pidge groaned a bit louder, burying her face into Hunk’s shoulder.

 

“I need more alcohol,” she muttered.

 

Keith, who had been silent for a few minutes, chimed into the conversation.

 

“So this is all cool but uh, are we inviting _Allura_ , as in like one of the Garrison’s favorite cadets?” he asked, scratching the back of his hand anxiously.

 

“Oh yeah, me and Hunk have known Allura since I was like 14,” Lance shrugged.

 

“Oh, damn,” Keith replied, the scratching on his hand stilling.

 

Pidge had somehow ended up laying on the ground in fetal position with Hunk attempting to pet her hair comfortingly.

 

“You alright over there shortie?” Lance asked with a quirked brow.

 

Without responding, Pidge flipped him off, sighing dramatically.

 

“You know she’s gonna be here soon,” Lance teased.

 

“Yea, I _know_ , and she’s gonna look really fucking hot,” Pidge complained, rolling over in order to sit up properly. 

 

Lance chuckled, spinning his phone in his hand.

 

A few moments later a knock on the door sounded, before the lock was picked and pushed open. Allura stood in the frame, one hand tucking a hairpin back into her pocket, and the other carrying a margarita bottle. She was well dressed, in what some might call an “aesthetic” appearance. The front half of her hair was pulled into a bun, with the back half still being down. Her baggy t-shirt was tucked into her high-waisted denim jeans, which led down to her bare feet, decorated with glittery toenails. Circular glasses without a prescription sat atop the bridge of her nose.

 

Shutting the door behind her, she looked about the group, placing a well manicured hand onto her hip.

 

“Hello,” she greeted kindly, in a smooth British accent that made most American boys swoon. “You all look like shit, as usual.” 

 

Hunk snorted, which turned a laugh.

 

“Excluding Keith,” she added, gesturing to the pale boy, who was observing the interaction awkwardly. “Since I’m friends with your brother.” 

 

Keith furrowed his brows.

“Loosen up mullet-head, she isn’t gonna bite,” Lance teased.

 

“Yea I know,” Keith huffed, looking in the other direction. Lance imagined that it was strange for him, an outcast with behavioral issues, to meet Allura, one of the star students who was chosen to represent the school on numerous occasions. 

 

Turning his head towards Pidge, he noticed the girl blushing profusely, and grinned wickedly.

 

“Well don’t take your time Allura, I’m sure Pidge is _dying_ to shove her tongue down your throat,” he winked at Pidge, who buried her face in her hands in mortification.

 

“I’m sure that’d be lovely,” she chuckled in response, sitting next to Hunk, with Lance on her left. “I see that you’re referring to her as a girl now?” 

 

“Yea, she told us a few weeks ago,” Hunk chimed in.

 

Allura hummed in response, sitting with her leg crisscrossed. 

 

“So, who’s spinning first,” she grinned.

 

“You should go,” Pidge said, removing her hands from her face, but avoiding looking at Allura. “Since you’re the oldest and all.” 

 

Smirking, Allura set the bottle in the center, and spun it with both her hands, frowning when it didn’t go very far.

 

“We need to set this on a book or something, it’s not going to work well on carpet,” she fretted.

 

Pidge reached behind her into her bag, pulling out a book from her algebra class and setting it in the middle.

 

“Oh, thank you Pidge,” she murmured, placing the bottle on top and spinning it again. 

 

For a few seconds the neck of the bottle whirled past each person, until it slowed, and landed on Lance, who grinned widely.

 

“C’mere princess,” he teased, crooking a finger at her mock seductively.

 

Allura snorted, leaning forward and giving Lance a small peck on the cheek. 

 

Lance smiled slightly, grabbing the bottle in his hand and spinning it around, his eyes following the movement.

 

It landed on Hunk, who laughed as Pidge elbowed him teasingly.

 

“Give us a show, big guy,” she joked.

 

Lance glanced towards Keith, who had been a bit reserved, and winked, crawling towards his friend on his hands and knees, and watching as the other tried to contain his laugher.

 

Straddling Hunk’s hips, he held his head in place, trying to stare into his eyes as seriously as possible. Leaning in for a kiss, Lance grinned and instead licked his earlobe, laughing as he was shoved off.

 

“Fucking gross,” Hunk grimaced, wiping saliva off of his ear in dismay. 

 

Lance sat up, making his way back to his place in the circle.

 

“Was that enough of a show for you shortie?” Lance sneered as Hunk spun the bottle.

 

“Well uh, I don’t know about me, but I definitely think it was enough of a show for Keith,”she said, raising a brow.

 

Keith scoffed, turning his head away in an attempt to hide a steady blush.

 

“What, does that get you hot and bothered?” Lance teased, poking his shoulder.

 

“Fuck off, you’re literally the least hot thing that I’ve seen all month,” Keith muttered.

 

Lance quirked a brow, watching as Hunk’s bottle landed on Pidge, who groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

 

“Gross, kissing Hunk would be worse than kissing Lance,” she complained.

 

“It’s ok, here I’ll cheat,” Hunk shrugged, pressing two fingers to his lips, and then to Pidge’s cheek.

 

“Hey ok, no fucking way,” Lance objected, Allura’s voice indignantly mixed in as well.

 

“What? She didn’t want to kiss me,” Hunk raised his hands in defense of himself.

 

 

Pidge had already spun the bottle, her lips sealed tight seeing that it landed on Allura, who smiled in amusement.

 

Lance’s face slowly split into a grin, watching as Pidge awkwardly shuffled towards Allura, sitting on her heels and avoiding the other’s gaze.

 

“Don’t be shy,” Allura prompted.

 

Furrowing her brows, Pidge leaned towards Allura, pecking her on the lips before shuffling away, burying her face in her hands.

 

Allura chuckled, twirling the bottle, and frowning when it landed on Keith, who scowled in return.

 

With the eldest not showing any signs that she was going to move, Lance tapped her.

 

“Yo Allura, what’s up with you?” he asked, seeing her gaze dart away.

 

“It’s nothing, I suppose I just feel a bit strange about kissing Shiro’s brother,” she murmured. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Lance reassured her.“I’ll just have to slap you twice on the thigh,” he added, hitting her immediately after, without giving her a chance to object. He then turned his gaze towards Keith.“Go ahead and spin the bottle, mullet.”

 

Keith complied, watching the bottle still on Lance, and furrowing his brows even deeper. 

 

Lance smiled, though an anticipation that he hadn’t previously felt settled in his gut.

 

“Do your worst,” Lance teased. Frowning, Keith moved towards the other, hastily pressing their lips together.

 

Feeling a desire to throw the other off guard, Lance bit the other’s bottom lip, and was surprised that they fell open as apposed to moving away. 

 

“Hey now, don’t get too into this,” Lance teased, pulling away from Keith, and grinning slightly at the blush that was now covering his face.

 

Keith sat back down, refusing to dignify Lance’s statement with a response, and instead rubbed at the spot where Lance bit absentmindedly.

 

From across the room, Pidge had her eyebrows raised, while Hunk and Allura bore amused faces.

 

With a grin, Lance steadied the bottle and spun it, avoiding Keith’s irritable gaze for the remainder of the night.

 

 

 

—

 

 

Eventually Allura left, leaving behind her florescent margaritas for Pidge to drink, to the point where she couldn’t properly stand and had to be dragged back to her dorm by Hunk.

 

By the time it was 5 am, Lance had agreed to stay behind and help Keith clean up a little bit, even though there wasn’t that much of a mess.

 

Picking up a bottle cap off of the floor, Lance glanced back at Keith, who was wiping up a spilled beverage.

 

Out of impulse, Lance opened his mouth, addressing the other boy.

 

“Hey mullet?” 

 

Keith turned towards him questioningly.

 

“What?”

 

Lance fiddled with the bottle cap in his hand.

 

“Are you gay?” 

 

Keith sputtered, a bewildered expression spreading across his face. Almost instantly Lance regretted his statement, seeing Keith’s offended response.

 

“I mean, you don’t have to answer or whatever, I was just curious,” he added quickly, trying to shrug nonchalantly.

 

Rubbing his temple, Keith sighed, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

 

“No, it’s fine,” he mumbled. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I dunno, I just noticed when we were at the pizza parlor and those chicks were talking to you after we left, you just seemed so uncomfortable and like, uninterested?” Lance shrugged. “I thought you were asexual or something, but you seemed all hot and bothered earlier while we were playing spin the bottle.” 

 

Keith set the towel that he had been using to clean in a nearby hamper, and then sat down on his bunk bed, not initially responding.

 

“Yea, I guess I’m gay,” he shrugged. Noticing Lance’s curious stare, he frowned, scratching the back of his hand. “I mean, I don’t like anyone in particular, I just haven’t had sex since I was like 14, so I’m easily… interested.”

 

A silence crept into the room after his words, awkward and steady. Lance tossed the bottle cap that he had in his hand into the trash, and put Pidge’s algebra book into his bag to return to her later.

 

“Do you think it’s weird?” 

 

Lance was unsure if he had heard anything, the small and uncertain tone so different from how Keith usually spoke. Turning his head, he spotted the boy fiddling with a hair tie on his wrist.

 

“What? No dude, of course I don’t,” he reassured him quickly. “Like, half of my friends are gay, and I’m bisexual.” 

 

Keith looked up from his hands, which Lance noticed had freckles that trickled up his arm a little bit.

 

“Wait you’re bi? Dude, you’re the physical embodiment of ‘no homo’” said a bewildered Keith.

 

Lance grinned with amusement. 

 

“What can I say, there’s just too much of me to share,” he winked, aiming a finger gun at Keith, who snorted. 

 

“You know what, get out of my dorm, I can’t believe you’re such a fucking asshat” he murmured, still smiling.

 

“I was already on my way out,” Lance retorted, grabbing his bag and making his way out. “I’ll be back here later tonight to give you a face mask,” he added before exiting, shutting the door behind him.

 

A strange warm feeling sat in his chest, he realized, as he walked back to his dorm, but he ignored it, looking forward to slapping charcoal on Keith’s face later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Glowing

 

 

Lance kicked off his hand-me-down shoes, watching as they scuffed the wall, before climbing up onto his bunk and flopping down.

 

It was probably around 6 a.m., on a Saturday morning thankfully, but he still felt exhausted, grogginess weighing down his body. 

 

Hunk was asleep below him, somehow not waking upon his entrance. The guy slept like he was dead, the only sign of life from him being his obnoxious snoring.

 

Groaning, Lance rolled over, staring at the ceiling. The texture of it was smooth, uninteresting to look at.

 

So naturally, his mind drifted. First, to Hunk, whose snoring grated his ears. The boy below him had promised to make him some garlic knots for him later, Lance having expressed a craving for them. He had intended to buy some frozen, but Hunk being the kind soul he was offered to buy the ingredients and sneak into the kitchens after dark to make some.

 

He really didn’t deserve him as a friend. He didn’t deserve any of his friends.

 

Slowly, his thoughts drifted over to all of the wonderful people in his life, Pidge and Allura, and Keith.

 

Keith. Something about him stuck out in his mind, an irritating thorn disrupting his otherwise steady stream of thought.

 

The boy was an enigma at times, irritable but endearing, cold but welcoming. Lance couldn’t help but scrunch his face up at the thought of the confusion that he caused. 

 

He wasn’t even 100% sure if they were friends.

 

Lance turned onto to side to try and better contemplate.

 

Sure, they hung around each other, and Keith reluctantly let Lance braid his hair, but something about it all seemed hesitant. 

 

If Lance thought too hard, he knew he’d convince himself that their “friendship” was just a byproduct of being forced together by school, and would end as soon as their project did. For some reason, dwelling on that idea made him slightly anxious, as though he were anticipating loosing something. Even though he wouldn’t be loosing anything. Keith was just one of those friends in school that come in go, nothing deep or emotionally valuable. He probably didn’t even matter that much to the other.

 

Groaning, Lance shoved his head into his pillow. It was too early in the morning for him to have a breakdown over his worth to other people. He knew objectively that Keith wasn’t going to just kick him to the curb, considering how lonely he seemed before he started talking to Lance and friends. 

 

He realized with irritation that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep at this rate, and tried to think of shops or restaurants that would be open so early in the morning. There was a Denny’s in town, though he didn’t quite like greasy breakfast diners like those. He probably didn’t have enough money to get anything anyway. 

 

Distantly, he registered the sound of ticking on the wall, belonging to a clock that Allura had given him for one of his birthdays. It was nearly four hours behind. 

 

Lance turned over again, before pulling himself out of bed and down his ladder. He wasn’t really sure where he was going, but somehow he found himself walking down the halls, phone in hand. His body was moving on auto pilot, leading him towards a set of doors leading outside.

 

The sky was a blend of pale pinks blues and purples, the sunrise birthing a rainbow of colors. Walking along a sidewalk next to building housing what were probably more Garrison vehicles, Lance hummed to himself, subconsciously heading towards his favorite spot on campus.

 

He hadn't realized how quiet it was in the mornings before. Almost no one else was out walking around, and if they were they were so far away that they looked like well defined specks.

 

Trotting along, Lance found himself approaching a tunnel. It was sort of like ones you would see one highways, with circular lights dancing on both sides of the walls, expect much larger. When he was a freshman he had come across this place, and fell in love with it. Something about it made him feel warm, like he was at home. He didn’t really go often, but sometimes on holidays or weekends he’d spare a quick trip.

 

The roads were wide, to accommodate for larger vehicles. Lance walked in the center, stretching his arms out as if on a tightrope and began to walk one foot in front of the other on top of a traffic line. Apparently if you pretended to try and keep balance, you’d end up loosing it. 

 

It didn’t work, and he assumed he looked sort of dumb, so he put his arms back down. The tunnel’s end was approaching, so he slowed down his steps, focusing on the lights instead. They were dull, but remarkably bright at the same time. Very contradictory, but it made sense nonetheless. 

 

Eventually the roof gave way to the sky, revealing runways and warehouses. The sight of it all used to be overwhelming, the excitement of his new environment serving as a nice icing on top of his genuine reasons for joining the Garrison, however it became very familiar very quick, and he soon learned to recognize every scuff and bold act of vandalism on the buildings.

 

With a small sigh he turned, heading towards a set of double doors. He wasn’t fully sure why he even came out here, other than to reflect, or maybe to pass the time. Or perhaps it was for the nostalgic factor, to try and feel like a small slightly happier Lance, if only briefly.

 

Pushing the doors open, Lance sighed, glancing at his phone and seeing that it was nearly 7:40. He by no means would be able to fall asleep at this point, and his friends were probably still in bed.

 

A few students were roaming around, most likely heading towards the showers or waiting for the cafeteria to open. Other than that it was quiet, some of the lights in the building off since it was so early on a weekend.

 

Suddenly his phone buzzed, distracting him from his mindless wandering. Stopping in the middle of a hallway, he drew his phone from his pocket.

 

**7:47 a.m. Mullet Twink: r u awake?**

 

Lance blinked, mildly surprised that Keith hadn’t passed out listening to some weird song on repeat.

 

**7:48 a.m. Lance ;): i guess yea, y**

 

**7:48 a.m. Mullet Twink: couldnt sleep?**

 

**7:49 a.m. Lance ;): yea, hunk was snoring and shit**

 

**7:49 a.m. Mullet Twink: well u can come over and give me a face mask now if u want**

 

A small smile threatened to spread on Lance’s lips, and he felt himself begin to walk towards Keith’s dorm, his fingers rapidly typing out a reply.

 

**7:50 a.m. Lance ;): ok sure, i’ll be there in like half a second**

 

So maybe Keith did appreciate his company. The thought made his heart feel warm, like someone had stuffed a heater inside of him. It was nice.

 

He could hear his shoes squeak as he drew closer to Keith’s dorm. The door was cracked, making it easy for him to push open when he arrived.

 

On the floor, Keith was sitting with a few tupperware containers, frowning at them.

 

“You made too many face masks, I can’t choose which one I want to use,” he complained. Lance grinned, sitting down on the floor next to him and examining the options.

 

“Lets do the charcoal one, since your skin is so oily,” he decided, picking up a blue container. 

 

“That one makes my face feel weird,” Keith objected. “I liked whatever this one is,” he added, gesturing to a cream mask.

 

Lance hummed, thinking.

 

“You can use this one next time,” he decided, pulling a hair tie off of his wrist.

 

Keith frowned, but didn’t object, taking the hair tie and sloppily pulling his hair up. A few stray strands fell onto his face, which he tucked behind his ears.

 

Lance scooped some of the charcoal mask onto his fingers, and scooted to sit right in front of Keith, who shut his eyes. He placed some onto the other’s cheek, noticing his slight grimace.

 

“Keith, do you even like face masks?” he murmured, spreading the substance around.

 

“I mean, I don’t hate them,” the other shrugged. “If you didn’t insist I probably wouldn’t use them.” Lance frowned.

 

“But I shouldn’t have to bother you too, it’s good for your skin,” he chastised. “Have you been using that face scrub that I gave you?” 

 

“No, it makes a mess.”

 

“You’re not using it right.”

 

“Cool.”

 

Lance smiled. Keith was ridiculously stubborn when it came to his hygiene, beyond the basic brushing his teeth and showering sorts of things.

 

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, wiping his hand onto a towel and closing the container. Keith wrinkled his nose, obviously unenthused at the new sensation of what he referred to as “sludge” on his face.

 

“So you’ve told me,” Keith replied, stacking a few of the containers, only to knock them over again. “I want a cigarette,” he added to himself, stretching to grab a pack from the top of his dresser.

 

Lance watched, pale sunlight beginning to leak into the room, illuminating Keith’s hair, charcoal ridden face, and calloused hands as they fiddled with the cigarette. The rising sun left behind some hints of peach.

 

He felt strange. Some sort of emotion was filling him, making him feel as though he were going to burst. It was suffocating, not in a bad way, and he couldn’t discover the source of it. 

 

Keith pressed the cigarette to his lips, lighting and then looking up to Lance.

 

“Want one?” 

 

He was definitely suffocating. Why was he suffocating? Why did seeing Keith look up at him so simply, with his hair pulled back sloppily, and with an unflattering charcoal mask drying on his skin make him feel so warm? It reminded him of when he got asked to the formal by a pretty Chelsea Baker in 8th grade.

 

Blinking, he realized that he hadn’t answered. “Oh, sure,” he murmured, setting down the container in his hand, and shuffling to sit in a more comfortable position. Keith handed him the pack and lighter.

 

Lance looked at the items in his hand and frowned.

 

“Hey Keith?” he asked, not even fully sure what he wanted to say.

 

“Yea?”

 

“Do you uh…” Lance bit his tongue slightly, trying to articulate his thoughts. “Do you actually like, enjoy having me around?” 

 

Keith looked at him and then tilted his head, confused. Lance took this as a bad sign and immediately began to panic.

 

“I mean you don’t have to or anything hah, I was just wondering if I was wasting my time or something since you seem so distant and unbothered and I mean why would you even bother with me, I probably talk way too much for your taste, and I’m doing that right now, I’m sorry,” he rambled, trying to ward off tears.

 

“Wait what? No Lance, I think you’re cool to have around and shit,” he attempted to comfort.

 

Lance nodded, and then laughed nervously.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I asked,” he said, lighting his cigarette rapidly and pressing it to his lips to save himself from saying anything else.

 

“No, it’s good that you asked,” Keith reassured him. “I wouldn’t want you thinking that I don’t like you or something.”

 

Lance nodded again, the suffocatingly warm feeling returning. Keith’s eyes searched Lance’s face for any signs of remaining uncertainty. Eventually they landed on his eyes.

 

“You have eye bags,” he said, smiling slightly. 

 

Lance furrowed his brows mock indignantly. “So do you,” he countered.

 

“Yours are worse,” Keith stated simply, grabbing a large bowl of water that he had sitting near his bed and a towel. He set his cigarette into a tray.

 

Lance didn’t answer but instead stuck out his tongue childishly watching as Keith wiped off his face mask, pieces of it falling into the water and onto the towel. 

 

When it was all off, he looked up at Lance.

 

“My skin feels soft now. Is it glowing?"

 

Lance blinked. It wasn’t glowing at all. His skin was exceedingly average to say to least, a bit oily, with small scars here and there, pimples still littered about, and eye bags suggesting that he hadn’t had a good nights sleep in months. And yet Lance couldn’t help but tilt his head and smile.

 

“Sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooo lancey's got a cwush uwu


	9. Microwaved Tea

 

 

Lance didn't tell anyone about the strange feelings that he had blossoming for Keith. Pidge would most likely use the knowledge to blackmail him, and for as wonderful as Hunk was, he’d probably accidentally tell the boy Lance’s secret. And while he knew that Allura would love to know, she would just try and hook the two of them up. 

 

He wished he still lived with his mother. She would have listened to his troubles, made him tea, and given him genuine advice. He knew that even if he somehow could go back at that very moment, things wouldn’t be the same as when he was younger, her mental health taking a nosedive in the recent years.

 

He fiddled with a tea bag. Allura let him borrow her countertop microwave every now and then, usually to heat up instant meals or to make sorry cups of tea. America had tainted him she said, persuading him to make tea in the microwave, even though he had seen her do the same on numerous occasions. 

 

Stirring absentmindedly, Lance stared at a nearby light. It was bright in the corner of his vision, provoking buried anxieties that he still possessed about liking men. If he even liked Keith, and his stupidly endearing face. He couldn’t imagine the scrutiny he’d have to face, or the uncomfortable glances he’d get in the locker rooms.

 

He was supposed to go and see Keith later. The thought made him excited, but it also made him chew on his lip and anxiety. Thoughts about all the things that could go wrong filtered to his brain, until his pulse ran cold and his brain filtered down onto one thought.

 

Hunk wasn’t home.

 

He hadn't hurt himself in two days.

 

His blade was in the third pocket of his bookbag, tucked between a library book that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

 

The stirring on his tea stilled, making the quiet Thursday afternoon silent. Absently he registered the slight shake in his hands, and the dread that sat in his belly. The feeling on cuts on his arm made him tired, and he wanted to stop, but he was already walking towards his bookbag when he heard a heavy knock on the door, repeated impatiently six or seven times.

 

Blinking, he walked over and opened it, already anticipating the pale skin and bored eyes.

 

“You were supposed to come out ten minutes ago,” Keith complained. 

 

Lance fiddled with his fingers. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, trying not to let his eyes linger on the slight curl at the end of the other’s hair. 

 

“No problem,” Keith shrugged. “You seem distracted, is everything alright?” 

 

Lance forced a chuckle.

 

“Everything’s a-ok, I’m just kinda tired. I was actually making some tea to wake me up,” he said with a tone that could be passed off as slightly too cheery. Keith blinked, his brows furrowing.

 

“I just got up from a nap,” he added, to try and further convince him. Walking over to his cup he took a sip, as though to further prove his point. 

 

Keith scrunched his nose slightly.

 

“You like tea?” he asked, judgement laced in his voice. 

 

“Yeah, I mean coffee makes me have to take a shit so this is the next best thing,” Lance replied. “Plus it smells good.” 

 

With a small _tsk,_ Keith flopped onto Hunk’s bunk, not responding. Lance set down his tea; despite his earlier statement, he no longer had a taste for it.

 

“So, are we getting ice pops or what?” Keith asked, rolling over slightly.

 

“Yeah sure,” Lance replied, tugging at the ends of his sleeves absentmindedly. 

 

Keith didn’t stand up, but instead watched as Lance fished around for his wallet. Eventually he found it, stuck between a half empty bag of pretzels and a textbook that he never used.Inside were a couple of quarters and a dollar. 

 

“I don’t think I can afford ice pops,” he fretted. 

 

“I mean, I don’t have to have any,” Keith said, unbothered. “We can just walk around.” 

 

Lance clicked his tongue, disappointed. 

 

“Ok fine sure, lets just go,” he murmured, tossing his wallet aside. Keith rolled off of the bed and onto his feet, walking out as Lance opened the door.

 

Lance walked by his side, making a strong effort not to focus on the way that Keith’s hair bounced when he walked. 

 

Eventually they reached a double set of doors, which Keith pushed open. Outside the wind blew, but it lacked a chill, with it being Arizona and all. 

 

They walked quietly, the silence not awkward or tense, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable either. Usually Lance led the conversations.

 

Their footsteps on a pavement went from hard to crunch once they reached a brief stretch of dirt before entering the town. Lance watched a couple of birds in the distance peck at dirt or worms, or whatever it was.

 

When they entered the town, Lance jokingly offered to link arms and sing that one song about a yellow brick road that nobody knew all of the lyrics to even though they were really simple in an attempt to make things less uncomfortable.

 

“Sure,” Keith shrugged, stretching out one of his arms to Lance’s immediate surprise. He smiled to himself briefly before linking arms and marching down the road, earning stares from passerby. 

 

Keith didn’t join in the song, even though there was no way that he didn’t know any of the lyrics. Lance didn’t particularly mind though, the fact that he was even participating was enough. 

Eventually Lance’s footsteps slowed to a normal walk, and the song ended, but their arms remained linked. Once again, silence crept between them. They passed by multiple shops, including the ice cream parlor. 

 

“Hey, do you wanna check out this one spot that I like?” Lance asked as they approached the end of the town.

 

Keith hummed in brief consideration. “Sure.” 

 

Lance scuffed his shoes against the concrete slightly, and walked out towards where the town gave way into a field.

 

Cement cylinders littered the ground, reminding him of his time there with Pidge and Hunk a few months ago.

 

“You like this place?” Keith questioned. He didn’t look directly at Lance, but instead tilted his head slightly. There was no judgement in his tone, only curiosity.

 

“Yeah, it’s better around sunset but I guess it’s a bit too early for that,” Lance replied with a small shrug, removing his arm from Keith’s to climb up on a block. 

 

Keith hopped up next to him. Lance tried to ignore the buzzing in his chest.

 

“You’re so quiet today,” Keith murmured. A hint of teasing seeped into his words. “Usually you won’t shut up.”

Lance scowled. “At least I try to make conversation, Mr. Lonely and Quiet Emo,” he retorted.

 

“Yeah I guess that’s valid,” Keith smiled. Then his face dropped again. “But really, what’s up?”

 

Lance scratched his palm, contemplating whether or not to answer honestly. His scratching increased in pace, the thought of sharing making him anxious.

 

“You don’t have to tell me, obviously, I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” Keith added, noticing the movement.

 

The scratching slowed. Lance spared a glance over towards Keith, observing the way that his eyes were staring intently at nothing.

  
“I’ve just been feeling a bit weird,” he shrugged.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

He did. Well, he didn’t, but he did at the same time. But he couldn’t, most of his recent anxieties circling around the boy beside him.

 

Apparently Lance took too long to respond, because Keith sighed.

 

“Well if you don’t want to talk, then do you want a hug or, something,” he asked, breaking off into an awkward mumble towards the end.

 

Lance nodded, a small nod that he silently hoped the other wouldn’t see, but he did, and soon he was being wrapped into Keith’s arms.

 

His body went stiff before he forced himself to relax and rest his head on the other’s arm. His nose was tickled by his hair.

 

He could feel a steady heat rising through his body, perhaps the embarrassment of being comforted like this, or maybe because of his attraction towards the other.

 

He needed to say something. The silence was growing awkward.

 

“You’re cold,” he said simply, but he made no move to sit up.

 

“Just like my soul,” Keith replied, staring off somewhere distant.

 

“Edgy,” Lance murmured. Keith hummed slightly.

 

“It’s hot, let’s go back to my dorm,” Keith said, pulling away. Lance mourned the loss of being embraced but agreed anyway.

 

On the way back Keith offered to hold hands, as a form of “transportable physical comfort”. Lance said sure. His palms were sweaty, but Keith didn’t say anything about it.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Lance sat down on Keith’s bed, the other flopping onto his back next to him.

 

“What now?” Keith asked, kicking off his shoes. Lance didn’t respond immediately. He made a strong effort not to let his eyes linger on the way that Keith’s shirt rose up when he was laid down, but it was difficult.

 

He didn’t even realize that there would be a difference in the tan, the idea that Keith was even ever in the sun shocking. He chose not to acknowledge the fact that they were literally just in the sun twenty minutes ago.

 

“Yo, earth to Lance.” 

 

Lance removed his shoes carefully, not responding. He had ignored the sexual aspect of his attraction to Keith intentionally, not wanting to provoke any strange or socially unacceptable thoughts. But it was difficult now, with Keith literally _stretched out_ beside him, like he was begging for Lance to pin him down.

 

He hastily crossed his legs. Keith didn’t seem to pay much attention to the movement.

 

“Sorry I’m distracted, what did you…” he trailed off. A sudden impulse poked at his mind, one of the ones that he didn’t really have time to think of. When it came to thoughts like those, he didn’t have the capacity to consider whether or not what he was about to say as stupid. His mouth opened before his brain could process it.

 

“We should fuck.”

 

Keith sat up and sputtered, covering his mouth in surprise. Almost immediately Lance regretted his words, so much that he had to fight the urge to try and physically take them back.

 

“We should _what_?” he choked out. His hands fell from his mouth.

 

Lance panicked. Keith’s response didn’t appear to be positive, really whose would be at such a sudden invitation to have sex?

 

“Hah gotcha,” he tried, but the wavering in his voice was a dead giveaway. “Damn Kogane, you take everything so seriously.”

 

Keith fiddled with his fingers.

 

“You were serious,” he murmured. “I’m not stupid.” 

 

Lance began to scratch to palm. Angry red marks were left behind.

 

“Sorry, that was a really dumb thing to say, I should like leave,” he muttered, already standing. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?

 

“You’re kinda dumb,” Keith said, grabbing Lance’s wrist to prevent him from leaving. “I’m not particularly opposed to sex, but I kinda wanna know why you were so sudden about it.” 

 

Lance stared at a particularly interesting spot on Keith’s dresser.

 

“I’ve just been really bothered all day,” he said shortly.

 

“By me?”

 

“No.” 

 

A pause.

 

“Yes.” 

 

Keith sighed. A smile poked at the corner of his lips.

 

“You’re kinda really dumb,” he murmured, pulling Lance towards him so that they would have to look at each other.

 

“Do you only like me sexually?” he questioned, tracing a circle onto Lance’s wrist.

 

“Depends on how you want me to like you,” the other replied.

 

“Well that’s an answer in and of itself,” Keith grinned slightly.

 

“Since when were you so bold?” Lance scowled. Keith shrugged.

 

“I’m not, usually,” he shrugged before he pulled Lance to sit on his lap. “I think I’m operating on hormones right now.” 

 

“What are you, like thirteen?” Lance teased, trying to ignore the weight of _holy fuck this is happening._

 

“But it’s true,” Keith murmured, burying his face into the corner of Lance’s neck before nibbling.

 

Immediately his hands went to the other boys hair to press him closer, the feeling of his tongue drawing lines onto his body unbearably hot.

 

“God you’re insufferable,” Lance pulled Keith’s head away to lead him into a smothering kiss. Despite his hormone fueled boldness, Keith was clearly inexperienced, the fact being clearly displayed by his kiss, a bit too eager, with a bit too much tongue.

 

Lance didn’t particularly mind though, the feeling of it good because it was Keith, and so he deepened the kiss, the fingers in Keith’s hair tugging slightly.

 

Keith let him take the lead, his body pliant in Lance’s hands as the kiss became all too messy. His hands wrapped around Lance’s back to secure a better grip around his body.

 

Lance bit down on his lip gently and tugged, similar to what he did during spin the bottle. That drew a small moan from Keith.

 

Gently, he pushed the other back onto the bed, properly straddling his waist. His fingers went to lift his sweatshirt over his head but he paused. The cuts on his arms were fresh, fresh enough for Keith to notice and express concern over.

 

“Is everything good?” Keith questioned, his hands snaking up the side of Lance’s thighs towards his waist.

 

“Yeah sorry,” he murmured, leaving the sweatshirt in its place and instead leaning down to leave kisses on Keith’s collarbone. His hands traveled underneath the boy’s shirt to help lift it, encouraging Keith to sit up and pull it over his head. Immediately after, they joined together once again for a kiss, laying back down onto the bed.

 

Lance’s body was impossibly warm, and his sweatshirt wasn’t helping. Pushing aside his discomfort, he pulled apart their kiss, only to reposition his lips on Keith’s jaw, his neck, his chest, lower and lower until he was obstructed by fabric.

 

His hands fiddled with the button to Keith’s jeans, glancing up at his face to scan for any signs that he was uncomfortable. However he found none, so he continued with slowly pulling the boy’s pants down his thighs.

 

Keith's legs were shaved. A strange sight, since Lance had never really considered him the type to bother with something so trivial. Either that or he just didn’t grow hair easily. Still, it made it enjoyable to run his hands along the boy’s thighs.

 

“God you’re so _soft_ ,” Lance murmured, moving his hands upwards to fiddle with the waistband on Keith’s boxers, only to move them back downwards and teasingly rub at his bulge. 

 

“Weird compliment but–ah fuck, thanks,” Keith’s breath hitched slightly and his head tilted backwards.

 

Lance didn’t reply, but instead continued to palm Keith through his boxers. In all honesty he didn’t really know how to approach sex with a guy. Touching parts similar to his but not being able to feel it was strange. He just hoped that Keith wouldn’t notice.

 

With feigned confidence, Lance pulled down Keith’s boxers down to his mid-thigh, and licked thin stripe up the base of his upright cock. Keith’s fingers instantly gripped Lance’s hair as a reflex. 

 

Running his tongue around the slit, Lance wrapped his lips around the head and sucked carefully, however he didn’t remain there for long, removing his mouth despite a noise of protest from Keith.

 

“Hey so uh, what are the odds that you have some like mint flavored lube under your mattress or something?” Lance inquired, tracing circles absentmindedly on Keith’s leg.

 

“Unlikely, my lube is actually in the third pocket in my bookbag, and it’s not flavored.” Lance _tsked_ and reached over to fish through Keith’s bookbag.

 

“Uh, also why are you so overdressed? You look like you’re overheating,” Keith pinched his brows, observing the beads of sweat forming on Lance’s face.

 

“I like my hoodie, it’s soft,” Lance shrugged, finding a quarter full tube of lube and popping it open.

 

“Yeah but not during sex man, it’s making me uncomfortable to look at you with it on.” 

 

“Ok first off, don’t call me man when we’re literally about to fuck, and second off, I’m not really comfy taking it off,” Lance murmured. “Now tell me how I’m supposed to do this because I’ve literally never had sex with a guy before.”

 

Keith frowned, but he didn’t push it any further. “Well you have to finger me open first or else it’ll hurt like a bitch,” he said, kicking the rest of his boxers off of his thighs so that he could spread his legs.

 

Seeing the boy fully nude under him encouraged a pang of guilt in Lance. How could Keith lie there so vulnerable in front of him, and Lance didn’t even have the courtesy to take off his hoodie?

 

“You know what fine, I’ll take off my hoodie, just don’t fucking say anything,” Lance muttered. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He dealt with this all the time whenever he had sex with girls.

 

Before he could change is mind, he quickly pulled his hoodie over his head along with his shirt and then poured lube onto his fingers, not giving himself time to dwell on it.

 

He could feel Keith’s eyes on him, however the other boy didn’t say a word. Instead, he directed his attention towards Lance’s fingers.

 

“Start off with your index finger and don’t just shove it in either, you have to go slow.” 

 

Lance was grateful that Keith didn’t ask any questions. It was easy to distract himself by circling his finger around Keith’s rim, and slowly pushing it inside. The boy under him’s breath hitched.

 

Slowly, he pulled his finger out a little bit, before pushing it in even further, until it was down to his knuckle.

 

“Fuck, that’s good, now move it around and shit until you think putting in your middle finger won’t hurt,” Keith turned his head into his shoulder.

 

Lance followed his instructions, pulling his finger out and inserting it back as though he were fucking him with it. At some point he curled it a certain way, which caused Keith’s hips to jerk and a staggered moan to escape his lips.

 

“ _Shit_ , god Lance add another,” he moaned. Lance complied, slipping in his middle finger with much more ease and continuing to finger fuck him. Every now and then he curled his fingers just to elicit a response from the other.

 

After a while a third finger was added, along with a fourth, until Keith grabbed his wrist, his legs practically shaking.

 

“I’m ready now, hurry up,” he said, his breath coming out in slight pants.

 

Lance smiled slightly, the sight of Keith coming undone nearly amusing for some reason. His hands reached down to fiddle with his jeans, which he now noticed were actually incredibly uncomfortable. He didn’t miss how Keith’s eyes followed his arm’s movement.

 

Tugging off his jeans and boxers unsexily, he tossed them to the side, slathering his cock in lube and lining himself up with Keith’s hole. The boy underneath him wrapped his legs around Lance’s waist, urging him on.

 

Lance slowly pushed the head in, biting his lip at the sensation. Keith squirmed slightly, though he couldn’t decipher whether it was out of discomfort or impatience, so offered soothing touches on his legs and torso.

 

Pushing the rest of the way in, Lance observed how Keith’s nose scrunched up. His breath came out in little pants once Lance bottomed out. He stayed still, waiting for the implication that it was okay to move.

 

Keith shut his eyes, focusing on evening out his breathing. Eventually he hummed. 

 

“Hurry up and move, dammit, I don’t have all d- _oh_ ,” Keith was interrupted by a gasp when Lance began to move his hips, dragging his cock out before shoving it back in.

 

Sweat beads formed on the bridge of Keith’s nose. Lance brushed hair out of his face, before leaning down to kiss him, desiring a taste of the masterpiece before him. His hips continued to slap against Keith’s ass, causing the boy to moan uncontrollably. 

 

Their tongues melted together, saliva and desire along with the sensation of being inside of Keith becoming nearly too much. Lance felt pathetically close already, so he slowed his thrusts, carding one of his hands through Keith’s hair.

 

His other hand reached between them to tease Keith’s cock. His finger ran over the slit, causing the other boy to keen, his back arching up slightly and a whine escaping his throat. Their kiss broke off, however their lips hovered near each other still slightly parted.

 

Lance’s thrusts began to grow aggressive again, pushing Keith’s body along with it. His hand on his cock sped up.

 

Keith turned his head to the side to try and conceal some of the noises he was making, however this effort fell short as he drew closer to the edge. With a particularly hard thrust, he came, his eyes rolling back. He spilled into Lance’s hand.

 

Lance followed shortly after, the sight of it all overwhelming. He pressed his face into Keith’s shoulder when he did, crying out slightly. Eventually his hips stopped moving, however he didn’t move.

 

Keith’s arms were wrapped around Lance’s back, holding him closer, implying that he didn’t want to move. 

 

Lance’s softening cock eventually exited Keith’s hole, prompting him to move away and start to clean up.

 

“Huh, I probably should’ve gotten a condom,” he murmured, digging through Keith’s dresser for a towel.

 

“That would’ve been a nice idea,” Keith stretched his arms above his head, flinching when Lance ran the towel along his hole.

 

The room went quiet as Lance finished cleaning up. He tossed the towel off somewhere in the corner, and careered his finger through his hair. Keith observed him from where he lay on the bed.

 

“Why’d you take your hoodie off?” he asked casually, fishing around somewhere on the ground for his clothes.

 

Lance frowned. He grabbed his hoodie off the floor and pulled it over his head, returning his arms to safety once more.

 

“I felt bad, since you were naked and I was still fully dressed,” he shrugged.

 

Keith hummed.

 

“Do you feel better now? Since you got to fuck me or whatever?” 

 

“Uh, I guess? I mean, I don’t feel worse?” Lance pulled his pants and boxers over his legs and buttoned them, before laying back down on the bed.

 

“Oh well that’s good,” Keith shrugged, laying his head on top of Lance’s chest. He absently began to fiddle with the raven hair.

 

“We should date,” he murmured. Keith clicked his tongue.

 

“Sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahAh it's ya bitch, back at it again with like a three month hiatus, shitty relationship building, and a rushed ending. hope u enjoyed uwu


	10. A Stray Leaf

 

The days pushed by in a blur. Their project came and went, receiving an 87 on it or something of the sorts. Lance had been surprised by this result, considering that a good portion of the time they could have spent working on it was instead spent talking idly, and doing more or less nothing.

 

Since then, more specifically since the day that the two boys decided to date, things had felt a lot different. The sun looked a little bit more colorful when Lance possessed the knowledge that he had someone to hold at the end of the day. Music was a bit clearer.

 

When he told his friends, they weren’t particularly surprised, Pidge handing Hunk a five dollar bill with a scowl. Allura told Keith that he had poor taste, but then followed it up by saying she was happy for him.

 

Thanksgiving break rolled around, a week that every student and staff member alike looked forward to. Everyone on campus enjoyed extra hours of sleep and the ability to stay in their dorms.

 

Keith and Lance sat on the floor in Pidge’s dorm on the Wednesday during break, watching some predictable action film while Hunk and Pidge took turns critiquing it.

 

“The special effects in this are pretty shit, I wonder if they focused their budget somewhere else?” Pidge pondered, chewing on a popcorn kernel. 

 

“This is a pretty small studio, I bet they blew all of their money on casting,” Hunk replied.

 

Lance smirked. The movie sucked, but it was amusing to listen to his two friends. Keith’s hair tickled his nose, and he listened to his breath coming in slowly, before being pushed out by his lungs, like a tiny gust of wind casually pushing away settled leaves. Lance couldn’t quite tell if he was asleep or not, and if he moved to look he feared the possibility of waking him up.

 

His boyfriend next to him smelled of smoke, and cinnamon. Maybe a bit of pinecone. Lance tried not to chastise him too much on smoking, despite the fact that he did it himself sometimes. Keith didn’t really push past genuine concern when it came to his own self destructive behaviors, so he didn’t find it fair to scold him too much for his poor habits.

 

“Is it just me or do those two guys have major sexual tension?” Keith murmured quietly from beside him. Guess he wasn’t asleep.

 

“Not everyone’s you and Lance,” Pidge teased, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But yes, they have mad sexual tension.”

 

“Woah ok, we did not have sexual tension? It was other kinds of tension. Like, ‘I really don’t like you,’ kind of tension,” Lance objected.

 

“Yeah sure, tell that to your dick,” Pidge scoffed.

 

Keith chuckled, the action causing him him to shift slightly from where he rested his head on Lance’s shoulder.

 

Sounds of gunshots erupted from the television, causing Lance to shift his focus. On the screen, men were firing rifles in a cheesy slo-mo montage that could only be passed off as shitty writing. Colors and explosions blurred together on the screen, the poor cinematography causing it to be a bit difficult to follow visually.

 

Lance rubbed circles absently on Keith’s palm, which rested on his thigh. Physical affection came easy to Lance, which was most likely easy to judge. As for Keith, despite his thorny exterior, the boy was fairly touch starved and usually accepted any hug or kiss from Lance with enthusiasm.

 

Hunk glanced at the movement and smiled slightly. He had been very supportive of their relationship, as Lance had anticipated. He was actually more excited than Keith and Lance were, and baked them a cake to celebrate. 

 

After a couple of minutes Keith shifted slightly.

 

“We did have a bit of sexual tension though.”

 

Pidge and Hunk sputtered, and Lance pushed his boyfriend off in mock offense, attempting to feign anger but overall failing and bursting into a fit of laughter. 

 

It had been a while since Lance had been able to laugh like this without taking his pills, along with smuggled vodka, however that day in particular he didn’t. At some point he knew he would need to again, but it was nice, being able to feel happiness own its own without any other assistance. 

 

The days would eventually pass on, and perhaps Lance and Keith’s relationship would someday cease to exist, however he found comfort in the fact that he would be able to keep these memories in a mental archive, cherishing them, as cheesy as it may be.

 

Outside of the Galaxy Garrison, a stray leaf blew. Through the window it caught Lance’s eye, and made him smile. He hoped to one day become like that leaf, being carried into the sky without a care, into the sun, to die warm, like he was when he was with his friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

 

End.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey campers! Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end of this series, I really hope you enjoyed it! I know this chapter was a bit short, I kinda just wanted to wrap things up a bit and not draw it out too long.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing all of this. Please leave comments and kudos to boost my ego and I hope to see you in another work <3
> 
>  
> 
> also i didn't really proof this much so if you notice something please let me know

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo guys, I hope you somewhat liked it. Leave me a comment & kudos if you will, it boosts my ego.


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